Mithlhach
by H.R. Fayyaz
Summary: on the way to the grey havens a curious elf meets a mysterious stranger...don't worry, it's a friendship story (and no legolas). COMPLETED
1. Grey Flame

Chapter 1

The sun shone down on the company of elves as they departed from Rivendell. One of them started to sing and soon the rest joined him in a cheerful farewell to Middle-earth.

"The king has returned," said one elf to his brother. "Peace has returned, but Lord Elrond is not at peace."

"Is it any wonder? His wife went on before him to the undying lands and now that he is ready to see her again he finds that when he leaves here he will never again see his Evenstar."

"Though if he should lose her to anyone, King Aragorn is the one he would have wished it for."

"When does Elrond make his journey to the Grey Havens?"

"Who knows," replied his brother.

"How my heart yearns to see Eldamar again," said their father all of a sudden.

"Much have we heard from you of its beauty, father. We too yearn to see it. 'Twill not be long ere we do."

Lindil lagged behind listening to the talk of his brothers and looking wistfully about him at the world he would never see again. 

Suddenly he stopped. His keen eyes had seen something move among the rocks like a flicker of flame. 

"What is it?" asked his sweetheart, her long hair swaying as she turned and her glittering eyes filled with concern.

Lindil's gaze pierced the mountains and caught a glimpse of a grey-cloaked figure making an escape. He looked back at his company who were already some way ahead, crossing the ford.

Turning to his sweetheart he said, "Go on and join the company, Nimril. Someone seems to be following us. When I have dealt with him I will join you."

Seeing the worried look in her eyes he smiled and squeezed her hand. 

"I will join you as soon as I can. Do not worry for my sake. Though I may not be as good with the bow and arrow as some, I am better than many."

Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and skipped away hurriedly to tell his brothers.

"Do not be long," she called behind her as she ran.

Lindil took out his bow and held an arrow tight between his fingers. He climbed the mountain swiftly, looking all around but there was no sign at all that anyone had been there though he was sure he had not imagined it. 

"_Mith lhach_," he murmured.

Whoever it was, they had made a quick departure. Presently, he returned to his folk. 

"Did you find aught?" asked Nimril.

He shook his head.

Though he sang merrily with them as they walked on, he was always on guard lest any danger lurk among the trees. Night came and with it came darkness but the stars of Elbereth shone brightly in the heavens and the moon was full so the elves journeyed on through the Trollshaws. 

Nimril looked indeed a white brilliance in the moonlight. Her pale hair shone as she danced along to the sweet songs Lindil sang for her. 

So taken with her beauty was he that he stumbled on a large stone. When he got up, he chanced to look behind him and saw the glitter of eyes in the darkness but they swiftly disappeared. Someone was following them. The dark lord may have fallen, but fell creatures still roamed Middle-earth.

"Did you see it again?" asked Nimril.

"Yes," he replied softly. "This time I shall catch it. It would not do to lead it with us to the Havens. Who knows with what mischievous intent it has followed us thus far."

"Tell the others," she replied, "They can help to catch him."

"No," replied the proud elf, "I wish not that my father or brothers suffer hurt needlessly. 'Tis but one stranger, and when I find him there will then be none."

Nimril was not assured and her heart troubled her still. Lindil took the slender soft hands of his betrothed in his own.

"Tarry not," said Lindil, "Already the company are far. Worry not for my sake. I shall return."

As he spoke he let go of her hands and held his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other.

"_You_ must tarry not," said Nimril, "I shall wait for you always even at the Grey Havens."

"I shall not be that long."

"Perhaps."

He bid her a fond farewell and watched her radiant beauty shimmer away before he turned to look for the stranger. He had not long to look but it was not because his prey had been careless. He passed among the trees listening and making no sound when he saw a large grey troll towering above him. Leaning against one of its great stone legs was a short, cloaked and hooded figure with sword in hand. The blade glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

"I see I was expected," he said.

"Why do you follow me?" 

He was surprised that the calm voice was one of a maiden's.

"That is what _I_ should be asking," he replied, "What are you?" and then on seeing a dark curl escape from under her hood at her shoulder he added, "A halfling?"

The dark sword shook, whether from anger or mirth he could not tell, as the answer was steady.

"No. I am a woman," she said.

She stood up straight and he saw that though she was very short she was not as short as he had first supposed. She was in fact taller than the taller hobbits he had travelled back to Rivendell with a few months ago.

"Well?" she said, "I have answered your question, now answer mine."

Lindil was not used to being spoken thus. He was a of a proud family who were close to Lord Elrond himself and here was a wild woman treating him like any common man.

"I came to see why you were following," he fitted the arrow in his bow, "Speak and you shall live."

The sword wavered. He had been too far for her to thrust it through him as he got the bow ready and was still too far for her to stab at him before he loosened the arrow.

"Your talk interested me," she replied, "Has the King truly returned?"

"If he has, what then?"

She hesitated and Lindil took aim.

"Then I may return to my home."

"Where is that?"

She hesitated again before answering, "By the sea, in Dol Amroth."

He did not move and she, weary of the weight of her sword on her tense muscles slipped it back into the sheath at her waist. Lindil still did not lower the bow.

"Will you indeed shoot an unarmed maiden when she has just discovered she may return home?"

In the darkness he saw a glint of white as she smiled.

"An elf cannot be too careful," he said stowing away his bow and arrow, "Even in this age. Why do you wander the wild? Surely the Edain do not let their women roam like rangers."

"I _am_ a ranger."

At this the elf laughed long and loud. He was so taken with mirth that he almost doubled up.

"Oh, 'tis a merry jest," he said recovering, "But truly, what do you do here thus, by yourself?"

"'Tis no jest," she replied lifting her chin and causing her hood to fall back a little so that the shadows fled from her face, "A woman may be a ranger, I have Numenorean blood."

Even in the darkness he saw that her eyes held the grey-blue of the sea, as did her cloak. She was very young, only twenty years of men as he deemed it and though she was fair she was not as fair as any elf or even the Lady Eowyn who Lindil considered the most beautiful of her race. 

This maiden was clad not in a gown but in a long shirt of dark blue over which she wore a leather jerkin and a black belt. Her legs were encased in black, thick boots protected her feet and leather gauntlets bound her wrists not fully hiding her fingers. A red stone glowed among her fingers on a ring of black metal like her sword. Red in black, the sight of the ring caused his delicate brows to meet. It reminded him strangely of the eye of Sauron he had heard tell of. There was some mystery about her that his curious nature desired to solve ere he left these lands.

"Are you not too short of stature?" he said presently.

"I have some Numenorean blood, but not all. Let me pass," she said pulling the hood of her cloak to shadow her face.

Lindil stood firmly in her way.

"Then whose blood runs in your veins besides?"

"I need not explain myself to you," she replied with flashing eyes.

Immediately, her sword was drawn and pointed at his chest but he was too quick for her and the bow and arrow were back in his hands.

They stood thus for several moments, so still that anyone passing by could have easily mistaken them for statues.

The fire eventually died out of the lady's eyes and her face softened. She was loth to fight with so fair an elf and as she could not do without sleep, as could the company of elves she had been following for days, she was quite weary. 

Lindil was also wavering. When elves and men were beginning to trust one another again was it right to kill one? And a maiden at that. He was suspicious of her yet. He did not trust her secrecy. He had never heard tell of a lady ranger and surely King Aragorn, the chief of the men of the West, would know of her. No, he could not let her wander alone to do what mischief she might. 

"I mean no mischief to your people," she said as if reading his thoughts, "We do not even travel in the same direction. You travel West and I to Gondor. Let us part ways now so that I may return to my folk and you to yours. Surely someone awaits you."

The lady lowered her sword and stood it on the ground. Lindil felt the justice of her words. He gazed to his right and decreed the glint of his sweetheart's hair in the distance. He turned back to the lady and tried to read her intentions in her eyes.

"You may go," he said finally, lowering his bow, "But now it seems not wise to let you wander through the wilderness without escort."

Whether or not she read the true intention behind his words he could not tell but a smile came to her lips that made him feel uneasily that she knew of his suspicions, his real reason for wanting to follow her.

"I can protect myself," she said, "I have done so for many years and my sword has tasted the blood of many orcs and other fell creatures," she sliced the air with her sword and suddenly her face grew grim, "Speaking of which…"

Lindil needed not for her to continue. He looked to his left from whence he had come himself and saw the hideous creatures pouring out of the Misty Mountains, glistening in the moonlight like foul slugs.

"_Yrch_!" he said, "There are twenty-three of them. How you knew they were coming I do not know but now you had best leave and be on your way. They travel fast."

The lady put away her sword and disappeared into the forest while Lindil ran out of the forest just near enough to the orcs for his arrows to reach them. Swiftly he shot three arrows and three of the orcs fell. They seemed to see him and sped in his direction so he took cover in the shadows of the trees from where he shot six more arrows in quick succession. To his surprise, ten orcs fell. He paused in the act of shooting and heard from behind him a whistle in the wind. An arrow shot past him closely followed by another though only one found its target. 

Moving back into the forest he saw the lady sitting in a tree stowing away a small bow and a handful of arrows into the bag at her back. Seeing his face full of fury she alighted from it.

"What do you do still here," he said angrily, "You must leave."

The lady said nothing but drew her sword.

"Go while there is time!" he said.

She looked straight at him with a strange light in her eyes and advanced towards him with her sword held high. The sudden change in her expression from calm amusement to intense rage stunned him so that he did not act as quickly as he normally would. His hand fumbled for his own sword but she was already upon him. The black sword swung through the air but he did not feel the cold steel on his neck. Instead he heard a ping and saw a dart fall to the ground beside him. It had bounced of the sword before it could reach him.

"Fool," she muttered and stood waiting for the orcs to come.

A new energy surged through her limbs and a fire blazed in her eyes. She laughed loudly when the orcs came into sight and advanced on them so suddenly from the shadows that two lost their heads before they even saw her. 

Lindil smiled and unsheathed his own slender sword. He was quick and strong and fought with such concentration that he felt almost surprised when his glance fell on the lady fighting beside him. Soon the ground around them was littered with orcs and their rolling heads. 

Lindil ran his sword through the last orc and cleaned his sword before sheathing it.

"What good fortune there were so few of them," he said.

He turned for the lady's agreement but she was leaning against a tree clutching her sword arm. The feathered shaft of a black arrow was visible through her bloodstained fingers. She yanked it out with a cry of agony that scared sleeping birds into sudden flight and fell to the ground in a swoon.

Now, Lindil was from the house of Elrond and had learnt much in the art of healing. He removed her sleeve, bathed the wound with water from his flask and did all he could so that when she awoke at midday, though she looked pale, the pain was weak.

She sat up and looked about silently as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight making its way through the branches above her. Lindil made no comment about her apparent inability to protect herself. Absorbed as he was in the fight he had not failed to notice that more than once she had killed an orc that was attacking him rather than one near herself. He suspected that it was on one of these occasions that the arrow had been shot. 

The lady yawned and stood up, swaying only slightly. Her hood was down and her dark curls tumbled down her back. She bound them with a strip of leather and washed her face with water from her flask.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Must you know?" she asked with a smile.

"I must know what to call you."

"You will not be with me for long," she replied, "What was it you said when you saw me in the mountains?"

"Ah. So you heard me."

"I hear a good many things."

The lady sat back down and took food from her bag to eat.

"_Mith lhach_ I said, meaning grey flame, for your hair was aflame but was hidden in grey. Now I would say it of your eyes for grey as they are I have seen them fire up in anger."

The lady laughed.

"Then Mithlhach you shall call me still. What is your name?"

"Lindil. I do not feel the need to hide my name in the manner of dwarves."

He thought he saw a brief flicker in her eyes.

"But then you will not be in these lands for long." 

She wrapped her food up again and returned it to her bag before standing up.

"Farewell now," she said, "Have a safe journey to the havens. I thank you for…" she pointed at the bandage around her arm.

As she walked eastward Lindil followed her.

"I shall accompany you," he said.

"Why? Do you think me weak even after you saw my blade at work?"

"No. You did indeed fight valiantly but you are injured and may not be able to handle a sword as well as you did then."

"You underestimate your healing abilities," she replied, "My arm is as good as new. I thank you for you help and praise but I wish not to be indebted to you further."

"'Tis I who am indebted to you," he said, remembering the orc dart.

"Nonsense. You would not have been there had I not detained you."

"I followed you at my own will so 'tis my own fault."

"Had I not let my curiosity lead me to follow you so closely I could have hidden better and you need not have seen me to follow me."

"This is idle talk. I shall come with you. You may ignore me if you wish."

They walked a little in silence. The sunlight touched Mithlhach's hair with loving fingers and left red flames among the dark curls. When she suddenly turned to look at Lindil he saw the flames were not only on her head.

"Go back to your love and journey to the land where you belong. What right do you, an elf, have to meddle in the life of a woman?" she said angrily.

Lindil stopped walking and Mithlhach continued. She felt both relief and guilt seeing the anger in his eyes. She knew he had not meant to meddle but she knew no other way to be rid of him except by wounding his pride, which she shrewdly guessed he had in abundance. She walked east and came to the end of the Trollshaws and saw the mountains ahead of her reaching for the darkening sky. Already it was late and she was weary. Her arm throbbed at her side. She climbed up a tree with difficulty and a great deal of pain and took a blanket from her bag. She found a large flat branch and made a bed of it, as was her wont before settling to sleep. 

As she lay half-dreaming she heard as if from a distance the sound of waves crashing in the sea. Gradually a picture seemed to appear mistily before her eyes. It was Dol Amroth, tall and splendid. Standing by the shore looking down at the waves was a fair young man, his dark hair flying in the wind and a deep sorrow in his dark grey eyes. He was dressed in mail and carried a helm under his arm. A tear made its way slowly down his cheek and she reached towards him to brush it away when of a sudden she awoke. The pain in her arm had opened her eyes and she could see stars winking at her from between the leaves above her.

Although she was awake she could still hear the music of the sea. As the sound came nearer she realised it was not really the sea. She rolled over and gazed down from the branch. Almost directly below her Lindil appeared singing softly to himself in his own beautiful tongue.

"So you follow me still," she said loudly.

Lindil looked up and smiled at her.

"What do you do there perched in a tree like a cat ready to pounce?"

"I sleep," she replied.

"Then truly from Dol Amroth you must be."

"Did you doubt it?"

Lindil sat down under the tree with his bow laid across his knees and an arrow in his hand.

"Will you not sleep?" Mithlhach asked him.

"I do not need it," he replied.

Already his mind had begun to wander in strange elvish dreams.

"As you wish," she replied, falling back to sleep.


	2. Misty Mountains

Chapter 2

When morning came, she expected Lindil to be weary but he looked refreshed and ready for the long journey.

"Did you kill any orcs last night?" she asked climbing out of the tree, "Or a balrog or two?"

"I had no need," he replied with a smile, "My presence was enough to strike terror in their black hearts."

"I wonder do they even have hearts?"

They walked along going east back towards the mountains.

"Would it not be better to go south?" Lindil asked.

"I am not yet going to Gondor. I must see my friends first and bid them farewell."

"Where do these friends of yours live?"

"Erebor."

"Erebor? Then they must be dwarves."

"How shrewd of you to guess."

"What strange friends you keep."

"They have been very good to me and I have spent many years among them and the people of Dale."

She looked at the distaste in his face.

"I see you do not like dwarves over much. 'Tis a shame. You shall be seeing them sooner then you may guess."

"What do you mean?"

"The orcs would not have fled their mountains without reason. I feel the dwarves are already beginning to reclaim their caves. Many orcs were killed on the other side of these mountains. Few are now left. 'Twas a very bloody war."

"You speak as though you were there yourself."

"Of course I was there. I fought as well as I could. I hope I have been of better use there than I would have been with my own people. My brother…"

She stopped. They had been walking across heather-covered land and had come to a bank.

"Do you wish to come to Rivendell?" asked the elf, "It has lost some of its splendour but it is peaceful all the same."

"No I thank you. It would only delay me further. And you too in fact. However, if I am right in guessing my friends to be in the mountains I shall soon find them so you may as well go back."

"To get to the mountains you shall need the easiest way and to find that you need me."

"Very well then."

They climbed down and walked towards the mountains rising ahead of them. In the distance the Bruinin could be seen sparkling in the sunlight.

"What is it you go to Erebor for?" he asked Mithlhach.

Mithlhach remained silent.

"Since I now know you have dwelt with dwarves I do not wonder at your secrecy. They must needs keep everything secret. No doubt they were the ones who advised you not to reveal your true name."

"They have their reasons, as do I," said Mithlhach.

"No doubt the reasons are just as secret."

Mithlhach looked at him with a smile.

"You would not understand. You are of the Children of Illuvatar, as am I, but your race alone met and lived with the Valar. Dwarves are Aule's children and their language was taught to them by him. He made them sturdy and secretive to protect them from the darkness that the enemy had spread over middle-earth. If they are secretive 'tis because they were made that way for their own safety.

"You cannot tell me that elves do not have their secrets."

Lindil did not answer and as they walked quickly and steadily he began to sing. With every word, Mithlhach's each step seemed lighter as if her limbs were being soothed by the gentle waters of the sea. Presently, Lindil stopped singing and suggested that they sit and eat. Mithlhach was about to tell him she was not tired but suddenly she realised that she was. The river was not far now but her legs ached too much to travel further without rest.

As she sat down beside Lindil she offered him some of her food. Coming away from his people as he did, he did not have much to eat with him, she realised. He took very little and as she ate he told her of the happenings of the war down south. He had not been present himself and had only gone to Gondor with Lady Evenstar but he heard from others many doings. Mithlhach listened intently. It had been a long time since she had heard of her people. When she had finished eating she began to ask questions. Most were about battles and who had fought in them.

"Did you see Prince Imrahil?" she asked.

"Yes but from afar."

"Did you see with him a man named Himthol? His eyes very much the same as my own?"

"I do not remember seeing such a man but many men returned to Dol Amroth before I arrived. All his sons were with him however, even the youngest. He cannot have been much older than yourself."

Mithlhach was silent and he knew his words had troubled her. She was staring at the ground and clutching the hilt of her sword unconsciously. She looked up and saw his keen eyes on her.

"Come," she said, standing up and holding her cloak closer about her, "Let us cross the river before nightfall."

 When they reached the river, however, it was already nightfall so Mithlhach settled down to sleep hidden away and Lindil lay down to gaze at the stars.

 The next day Mithlhach insisted that they hurry. As they sped along, the woman striding as quick as her short legs would take her and the elf stepping as light as a deer beside her, an anxiety descended upon them. Lindil soon realised the anxiety was emanating from Mithlhach herself. A frown gathered in her eyes and she hurried all the more. Glancing at her, Lindil thought he saw a real flame in her eyes for a brief moment but she closed them as though she felt his gaze upon her, and began to run.

"What has happened?" asked Lindil.

"We must hurry," replied Mithlhach, "They need me."

She would say no more until they had passed the river and even come to the foot of the mountains. It was night when they finally stopped. Lindil marvelled at her speed. Mithlhach suddenly sat down on a jutting rock to catch her breath and asked him to find firewood. 

"Are you not in a hurry?"

"I cannot find them now. 'Tis too late and I need rest and food."

Lindil looked at her. She seemed pale and tired. The mortal race was indeed weak. He left her to sustain herself with some bread from her pack and went in search of wood. He would only take what he found on the ground so it was some time before he returned and gave wood to Mithlhach to pile.

"How do we light it?" asked the elf.

"Leave that to me. Please, you have keener sight than mine, tell me if you see anything over yonder."

Lindil turned away and gazed into the distance. There was nothing near and so he told Mithlhach. He had looked away for only a moment but when he glanced back a fire roared merrily before her. He began to ask how she had done it but already she had lain down and fallen asleep against the wall of mountain beside her. He looked about him.

A stranger being he never knew. One moment hiding in trees and at others lighting a fire inviting all fell creatures to come near and then falling asleep. He shook his head at the folly of mortals and climbed up the mountain a little to see further. He watched over her from the shadow of the mountain with his bow and arrow ready but nothing came near. This seemed stranger to him still. So close to the mountains but no orcs or other fell creatures were to be seen. He looked sternly upon Mithlhach's sleeping form, huddled in her cloak, and his old suspicions awoke and troubled him. 

He was sitting at some height above her but he saw a spider crawl towards her. Several others followed. They were small but he trusted them not. He watched in wonder as they began to spin a web about her from the mountain to the ground but not touching her skin. He would have jumped down to get rid of them but Mithlhach opened her eyes and saw them. She seemed to utter strange words to them before falling back to sleep. 

Lindil felt a sudden anger rise in him. His companion was definitely not to be trusted. A friend of dwarves, he should have known what to think. Few dwarves did he know and trust and those he counted as exceptions to their race. 

Spiders! He looked at them in disgust. All knew the monster that devoured the trees of the Valar was of spider form. He had even heard tell of one that troubled the ringbearer. He did not realise it but his anger grew more from having suddenly lost a friend rather than being confronted by an apparent enemy.

The spider's web was like a silver shield in the moonlight but one half shone golden from reflecting the flames. It seemed to glint at him mockingly, the flames dancing patterns against the spiderweb. Lindil aimed his arrow at Mithlhach, still visible through the spiders' handiwork, but a sudden recollection of the fight with the orcs stayed his arrow.

Many insects were attracted by the fire. They drew nearer to Mithlhach but were caught in the web. When the fire died down and the sun rose the spiders had a happy feast on the unfortunate creatures before carrying away their snare. Mithlhach did not wake till they had all but disappeared and found herself faced by a very stern faced elf.

"Now what have I done to offend you?" she asked him good-humouredly.

"Spiders."

"I see."

"Will you not explain?"

"Why should I?" she asked standing up and hoisting her pack onto her shoulders, "You have already thought yourself of an explanation."

She then turned away from him and climbed up the mountain without turning back to see if he would follow, which he did. She picked her path with such decisiveness that it was clear she knew which way she was going. She soon found an opening, no more than a crack but she easily slipped through it and disappeared from Lindil's sight. He peered inside and could see nothing in the darkness but the eerie red glow of her ring.

Now Lindil was a slim elf so he took off his quiver and bow and attempted to follow Mithlhach. With some difficulty he managed to squeeze through the gap and reached out to pick up his things before following the lady down the dark passage. He had to bend so as not to bump his head and saw with some annoyance, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, that Mithlhach was standing quite straight yet with an inch to spare between the top of her head and the ceiling.

The passage went downwards and the more it did so the warmer it seemed to get. He felt as if they had been going for hours and he deemed it to be late afternoon when suddenly Mithlhach stopped. The passage branched off into three other tunnels. Mithlhach saw Lindil when he caught up with her but betrayed no surprise or a single word. A sudden glow lit up the middle passage and a deep cry was heard. Lindil saw again a true flame in Mithlhach's eyes before she went to that passage and hurried along it. The elf stayed close behind her but soon began to wonder again. What if she was leading him further into a trap? Mithlhach glanced over her shoulder and glared at him.

Down and down it went. Visions of balrogs invaded Lindil's mind when the tunnel was abruptly cut off. Lindil looked over Mithlhach's shoulder and saw a large hall below with a very high ceiling. They were looking down from one of many tunnels that led to it. Far below in the midst of a circle of fire, three dwarves were caught in a corner by the strangest creature Lindil had ever seen. It was thin and long like a snake, but had arms and legs, and was covered in thick shoddy scales. It seemed withered, as did its dull orange colour as if it had once been a strong red but had faded over time. Only its wings retained some of the old red but despite its scrawny body the wings did not seem capable of ever lifting it. Lindil remembered seeing something similar many years ago.

"That cannot be…" he began.

"It is," replied Mithlhach, "A dragon." 

A dragon it was but old and ailing. Hiding in the deep recesses of the mountain it had been asleep for over a century. Still waiting for a call from its master who would never again return. A creature of Morgoth; Sauron was never able to control the great worms. Now in the darkness the creature cursed the ineptness of Sauron and wished it had enough strength to attack people and bring back treasure as it used to.

Mithlhach turned around and drew back into the passage. She took out her bow and fitted an arrow to it.

"You cannot slay it with an arrow," said Lindil.

"I know," replied Mithlhach going back to the mouth of the tunnel and aiming it.

"You must not."

But she did. The arrow whistled through the air and caught the dragon in the neck. It turned around unhurt but annoyed. Its wings spread out behind it and with several beats of its wings it began to rise.

"It is coming here," said Lindil, "You must leave the passage."

"Yes," said Mithlhach, "Let us go."

"I must kill it."

"When it gets here I doubt you will get the chance. Hurry. You are in front of me, I cannot leave with you in the way and there is no space for me to go around you."

Lindil agreed and sped up the tunnel glancing once behind him to make sure Mithlhach was following. But when he got back to where the other branching tunnels were she was nowhere to be seen. He looked down the tunnel.

"Mithlhach!" he shouted.

The only answer he got was the dragon's roar followed by the roar of fire as it filled the tunnel he was looking down. He quickly ducked into the tunnel on the left just in time as the flames licked the edges of the middle tunnel. Then it was dark again with that faint glow of red.

"Mithlhach!" he called again.

He did not get an answer this time either, nor did he expect it.

Lindil sat for some time staring down the tunnel. He heard a louder roar that startled him out of his thoughts and he went down the tunnel. As he neared the end he found Mithlhach's scorched cloak. The dragon had eaten her then, he thought. He looked down at the beast and to his surprise it was lying on the ground. Dead.

Beside it was a small figure putting a black sword back in its sheath. She looked up at him and he climbed down to talk to her. The dwarves were nowhere to be seen. When the dragon's attention had first drawn away from them to the place the arrow had come from they had fled down the tunnel they had entered by. The dragon sent a final gust of fire after them when it saw they had gone before flying back towards the mouth of the tunnel where Mithlhach was waiting for it, sword in hand. She had followed Lindil a short way before turning back.

"How did you survive the fire?" asked Lindil.

"There was a wall that opened a path beside me so I took refuge there," replied Mithlhach, "As the dragon drew away thinking me dead I jumped on its back and drove my sword down its throat."

"That must be a very sharp sword indeed to pierce a dragon's hide."

"Dragon's do not have scales in their mouths."

"Mouth? How did you stab it in the mouth without it breathing fire and burning you to a crisp?"

"I suppose it was too surprised to breathe fire in time. Come, we have to find my friends."

"Of which friends do you speak?"

"The dwarves, of course."

"Oh, the friends who ran like cowards when they saw you being attacked by a dragon."

"They did not see the dragon attack me, they saw _me _attack the dragon."

"I do not see the difference."

"You do not know me like they do. I have done far more dangerous things. I was hardly in any danger at all, I assure you." 

"You are quite foolish."

Mithlhach smiled.

"Thank you," she replied with a slight bow, "Shall we leave now? Dead dragons tend to smell a great deal after a while."

"How do you know?"

"I heard from the people of Bard, how else?"

She seemed rather cheerful as she led him through the tunnels and hummed an unusual tune as she walked. From the gloom Lindil heard the same tune seemingly echoing back. He soon realised however that the echoes had words and were in a much deeper voice.

"Dwarves," he said under his breath.

Mithlhach looked back at him.

"Perhaps you should begin your journey back now that I have found my friends," said Mithlhach, "They do not like elves overmuch."

Lindil looked angry.

"I would not abandon you to a party of dwarves. They care for nothing but riches. You cannot trust them. I will not let you journey alone with them. It would be too dangerous."

"They are my friends, do not fear for me. If they proved not to be, my sword would be out in a flash and they would lose their bearded heads before you could say Khazad-dum."

Lindil smiled. The picture certainly appealed to him. He still did not altogether trust her especially with a band of dwarves. Who knew what evil they could create together?

"I will journey with you all the same," said Lindil.

"Perhaps you had better remain here while I talk to them. They will not much appreciate travelling with an elf."

"I shall not much relish travelling with them either," said Lindil but she had already slipped away following the voices. 

Soon he could hear rejoicing voices in a hubbub. Then the sound of Mithlhach's voice as the others listened in silence followed by peals of laughter and clapping. Mithlhach spoke again but the dwarves replied in angry voices. Lindil could not hear the words but he assumed he was now the topic of conversation. He was quite right.

"An elf!" cried the eldest dwarf, "Have we taught you nothing! Did you hear that, Merin?"

"Yes, Sarin. I'm right here aren't I? I have ears!"

"Haven't we told you time and time again that elves are not to be trusted?" said Sarin.

"What I'd like to know," said the third dwarf, "Is where he was hiding when you were slaying the hideous old worm."

"I told you, Corin," said Mithlhach, "I told him to leave the tunnel and made him think I was following."

"Well, I congratulate you on tricking an elf at least. You have got something into that curly head of yours it seems," said Sarin.

"Don't be too hasty," said Corin, "I do not suppose he was fooled at all but ran off all the same. Elves are all high and mighty but I'd be much surprised to hear they cared for any race besides their own. Do you not agree, Merin?"

"Whether Merin agrees or not," said Mithlhach, "He is coming with us. You may argue all you please. I shall not listen to you. Now come, I do not feel as comfortable in this stone maze as you do and would much prefer some fresh air and sunshine."

The dwarves grumbled but followed her and when she took them to Lindil they greeted him civilly, albeit bluntly and coldly and he replied in much the same way before they made their way out of the mountain to the east side. They walked with Sarin in front (which greatly annoyed Lindil) armed with his axe followed by the other two dwarves and Lindil and Mithlhach at the back.

"They all look the same," said Lindil quietly, "Do they wear different coloured hoods so you can tell them apart?"

"They are brothers and very easy to tell apart," replied Mithlhach, "Sarin is the eldest, he has the greyer beard and by far the larger nose and his eyes are rather beady. Corin is the youngest, is smaller than the other two, his nose is rather pointy and his eyes very big. Poor Merin is stuck in the middle agreeing with them both as far as he can. As you can see his nose is the smallest and rather rounded and…well, all their features differ. How can you not see the difference? 

"Then again. I doubt they would be able to tell the difference between two elves. They would probably not see the difference between an elf from Rivendell and one from Mirkwood."

"Then they would be very foolish."

"Just like all who refuse to see others as single beings rather than parts of groups while at the same time hating to be considered in the same way."

"The smallest dwarf _is_ rather distinguishable…" began Lindil.

"His name is Corin. You know the names of the others so make use of them."

A sudden breeze filled the air. Sarin had found the way out. They stepped out into the cold night air but then stepped back in. Merin knew a place inside where they could rest till morning and the others agreed that, as they would not be travelling more that day they might as well have something to eat and rest in the shelter. They had just eaten when Corin began to look restless. He was thinking about how small the room was and how much he disliked elves.

"Where will you sleep, elf?" he asked.

"His name is Lindil," said Mithlhach, "Make a point of remembering it."

"Where will you sleep, Lindil," asked Corin again but with more contempt.

"I shall find my own place to sleep," replied Lindil and went out under the night sky.

The dwarves found one compartment to rest in while a smaller room served for Mithlhach. Already spiders had gathered and spun a hammock for her to lie in. She lay her blanket onto the sticky bed before getting into it herself and then snuggled into her cloak to sleep with a hand on the hilt of her sword. 


	3. The Red Chamber

Chapter 3

The deep grey-blue sea was troubled in Mithlhach's dreams. Like her eyes it was unfathomable, hiding deep down many mysteries that the bright light of the sun could not unveil however hard she tried. Yet she continued to shine down, red and flaming through the clouds as if to bring happiness out of the shadow.

But no, she wasn't the sun, that circle filled with fire. It did not bring happiness, only pain.

It was an eye. Bearing down upon the grey-blue, burning to bring fine drops of water into the air like invisible tears. Mithlhach saw not the sea any longer. Only the eye remained! Nay, eyes. Two she could see now. Twice as agonizing in their fiery scrutiny of her soul. 

"You cannot have it! It is my only…"

Mithlhach awoke to the echo of her own cry and sat up. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes stung and she could hardly see. All was darkness about her but for a red glow, the glow of her ring in the cold of the stone room. She stared down at it and slowly lay down again.

"You shall not take him from me," she said softly, not understanding her own words but drifting heedlessly back to sleep.

A crisp morning came the next day and Lindil stood high on a peak, his clear sight piercing the mists to see the green of Mirkwood far below. The wind blew his dark hair like new leaves on a young still tree.

When he had come out at night he realised that they had not reached the other side of the mountains but only a shallow valley between peaks. His curiosity led him to return to the caves though he loved them not, and he was able, without much difficulty, to find the dragon's layer. Or so he thought.

He had found himself in a tall cave, almost identical to the dragon's one but for one detail. There was no dragon. He did not feel that his memory had failed him although he had travelled through the dark tunnels with a great speed. With cat-like nimbleness he climbed to the tunnel where he had looked down from before. A burnt cloak lay inside it. Mithlhach's. So 'twas indeed the same place only the dragon had disappeared.

Finding himself back in the tunnel he remembered the side passageway Mithlhach had spoken of. Yet however closely he looked he saw no doorway or even a crack in the smooth walls of the tunnel. There was no way she could have escaped the dragon's raging fire. This was indeed strange. But stranger things were yet to come. 

As he returned to the doorway, anxious to breathe the night-air again he heard a cry. 'Twas behind him. He took a step back and heard the voice but recognised it this time. Mithlhach. He took swift silent steps towards where she slept and saw her fast asleep and quite safe in her spider made bed. 

He went quickly outside and climbed high on a peak pondering over what he had heard and discovered under the stars of Elbereth, praying to her for clear sight. Now all the stars had faded away and the sun shone down upon him and he still knew not what to do.

 He looked back towards the arched doorway of the cave and saw the three dwarves huddled around a small fire talking amongst themselves. Even from his great altitude Lindil could see the seriousness in their faces and the worry on Merin's brow.

They did not hear the elf approach on his light feet so he caught a part of their argument. 

"A foolish notion," Sarin was telling Merin, "Our young brother is right. The plan can by no means be abolished. We did not come all this way for nothing. Therefore, she shall not know of it."

"Yes she shall," said Merin wringing his hands, "You know her way."

Corin laughed.

"Are you afraid of a young girl? Why, you were over two hundred when she was born. How can you fear her?"

"You know very well…" began Merin before he suddenly saw Lindil.

Lindil too found it unusual that dwarves though they be, a young child of man could command their respect, at least in her presence, and in Merin's case, even fear.

"Good morning," said Lindil.

Merin was about to answer when he saw that Lindil was not looking at him.

"Good morning," replied Mithlhach.

Merin jumped when he heard her voice behind him. He was itching to ask how long she had been standing there but Sarin was looking at him so pointedly that he kept his mouth closed and settled with fidgeting with his beard.

Mithlhach drew her hood over her head and her cloak about her shoulders. Lindil looked at her suspiciously but only for a moment. His suspicions fled on seeing her. She was truly but a child. Also, he could not forget the service she had rendered him during the skirmish and with the dragon. Mithlhach smiled at him and seemed so much more the innocent child that he almost dismissed all the questions he was meaning to ask her.

"Sit down and have breakfast," ordered Sarin.

Mithlhach obeyed him rather to Lindil's surprise. He watched her eat for a while before asking her where she had found a new cloak.

"I carry it with me," she replied, "When 'wandering in the wild' spare things are greatly needed." 

He seemed satisfied with this explanation and sat down himself though, as usual, eating only the elvish food he carried with him.

"How long till we leave the mountains?" asked Mithlhach.

"Two days, perhaps three," said Sarin.

"How can that be," said Lindil, "I deem it to be a days march at the most."

Mithlhach glanced at him and then back at her food while the dwarves glared at him. Soon they were done eating and walking along the tunnels but this time with Mithlhach and Lindil leading and Merin and Corin at the back with Sarin in the middle holding a lantern.

"It seems I made an error in thinking there were many dwarves in the mountains. Are you not reclaiming them with your brethren?" asked Mithlhach.

"No," said Merin.

"Of course," said Sarin at the same time.

"No?" repeated Mithlhach, "Then what are you doing here?"

"We came to explore," said Sarin, "And also to give help to those who need it. They needed not our help so we went off on our own and met unfortunately with that worm beast."

"So you have not found the chamber yet?"

Merin was about to speak but Sarin answered before him.

"Chamber? Why, which chamber do you speak of?"

"The Red Chamber of course. Is that not why you are here? To find it?" she asked and stopped walking to look searchingly at them.

"Truly we have come to find it," cried Corin, "And it is no concern of yours."

"So this is what happens when I leave?" said Mithlhach, "Talk of nonsense and the making of foolish schemes. Worry not, Corin, I wish to have no part in it."

"You _are _part of it, my dear," said Sarin soothingly, "Now have done and keep walking. We can make this search with or without you."

"My brother will not be pleased," she muttered.

"Your brother will not know unless you tell him."

"What exactly do you hope to achieve?"

"You already know."

"Yes. But what do you expect from him?"

"Answers," said Corin.

_"Riches," _thought Lindil.

"The dead can give no answers," said Mithlhach striding faster.

"I do not believe him to be dead," said Sarin hurrying after her.

"Believe what you will but look for him no longer. He is dead."

"What makes you so sure?"

Mithlhach glanced at Lindil and back at Sarin.

"You cannot look for the chamber."

"We shall go," said Corin, "And you cannot stop us."

"Can I not?" said Mithlhach calmly and began slowly to release her sword from its sheath.

"Stop this," said Lindil taking her arm, "Why quarrel among friends? Has the darkness not past? Do not create it yourselves. Why do you care what they do? If you are so concerned why not accompany them?"

She stared at his wise face for several moments and there was a soft ring of metal in the silence as the sword slipped back. 

"Come then," said Mithlhach, "I shall show you the Red Chamber."

The two strode on ahead with the dwarves stomping on behind so Lindil did not see the suspicious looks they gave him.

"He was not in the plans for this expedition," muttered Corin.

"Neither was she," said Sarin, "We should have departed sooner."

"I should have departed later," said Mithlhach, "I may have had more time to remove these ideas from their heads."

"Who do they search for?" asked Lindil.

"It has been a long time since I've been to the chamber so I would appreciate silence as I try to keep us on the right track. It is quite tricky in these parts of the mountains. It seems he did not…it seems the chamber was not meant to be found easily."

She would speak no more and though the others broached her with questions a few times she simply ignored them. A constant frown was on her brow as she hurried through some areas and went gingerly across others.

Several times they would hurry past a tunnel filled with a great stench, a hot sticky stench like decayed flesh being steamed and filling the air, else loud squelching thuds could be heard. A day and a half passed but they continued to twist and turn through the passages until the stifling darkness seemed almost unbearable even to the dwarves.

Lindil watched the small, cloaked figure before him. It seemed almost as if it was all he had seen for years, the back of a curly head of dark hair bobbing ahead of him. He was about to reach out to her and ask where they were when suddenly Mithlhach stopped and turned. She glanced at the hand he had extended before her but said nothing of it.

"We are almost there," she said, her soft words shockingly harsh on their ears after the long hours of silence, "This is where the danger begins…for us. So far we have avoided the dangers I faced the first time I came here. Why just down that left passage…" she paused as if she had just remembered a past hurt and a grim smile came to her lips, "It is of no consequence. Now ahead of us is a short corridor leading to the Red Chamber."

Corin stepped impetuously forward and pushed past her. A soft click echoed past them and with a sudden swish a blade appeared out of nowhere and was heading for Corin from the side. Mithlhach had caught the back of his cloak and gave it a sharp tug just as he cried out. The blade swept past him taking with it a large part of his beard.

"No!" he cried, "My lovely beard!"

He held the remnants of it in his hands and stared at it mournfully while Mithlhach looked at him with an amused smile.

"Foolish dwarf," said Lindil, "Do you value your beard above your life? Be thankful 'twas not your head you lost."

"When you know him better," said Mithlhach, "You will understand that his beard is indeed dearer to him than life. Forgive me Corin, I should have pulled you back sooner."

"Or later," said Sarin with a laugh.

The others laughed with him, even Lindil who was still wondering what Mithlhach meant by 'when you know him better'. A strange rumbling sound began to grow about them stopping the laughter on their faltering lips. 

"Oh dear," said Mithlhach in response to the questioning looks directed at her, "It has triggered off something else. No matter, we shall deal with them as they come."

She stepped towards the swinging blade and Merin whimpered. She smiled reassuringly at him and went into a dark tunnel by her side. She returned with a small boulder.

"It is a mercy it is still here," she said, "You could not imagine the trouble I had finding it."

She waited for the blade to swing to the far left before pushing the boulder in its path. The blade stuck firmly in it leaving a clear path on the right. However, Mithlhach did not let them take it yet. Arrows would be shot from the left wall, she explained, and last time she had brought a shield with her. She did not have it with her now.

"I know," said Merin, "We could hide behind the boulder and someone could push it along to shield us as we pass."

"You have just shown us exactly why you prefer not to speak!" said Sarin, "Who, may I ask, will push the boulder at the risk of getting shot full of arrows? And what is going to stop the blade from swinging back to slice the boulder-pusher before he even moves it a foot?"

"I am ashamed to call you my brother," Corin told the embarrassed Merin.

"Is there no way to stop the arrows?" Lindil asked Mithlhach.

"There may be," she replied, "I had not the leisure to find out last time as I was being chased by orcs."

"That's an interesting idea," said Sarin stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Already, his dwarvish mind was busy trying to figure out how the contraption worked so that it could be broken. If there was one thing he understood, it was machines. He rummaged through his bag and found an old travel worn hood. He tossed it ahead of him. Immediately the hood was shot through with arrows as it fell. Sarin then threw a small rock and several other useless things and watched the pattern of arrows carefully while his brothers watched him in some annoyance whereas, Mithlhach and Lindil looked on with interest.

"Did you see that?" asked Sarin with a satisfied smile.

"Yes," said Corin, "You just ruined a perfectly good hood!"

"The arrows come only one by one and only from back to forward, never back again," said Lindil.

"Correct!" said Sarin.

"But how will that help us?" asked Corin.

"Well if one of us went across the others could follow and not get shot."

"But the one in front is still in danger of being hit," said Mithlhach.

"Now do not pick holes in my ideas. No doubt you shall think of a better one as soon as we leave this place and others may have better ideas if they were in our situation. But they are not so we cannot take their advice. Do you have any advice?"

"I was simply stating fact. However, I do have an idea. The arrow goes for the first part of the first thing that moves past it. Why not carry something ahead of us as a target for them rather than one of us."

"Yes," said Lindil, "I shall carry my sword ahead of me to attract the arrows while you all follow."

"But…but…" said Merin, "You have no surety. You may still end up being the target for the arrows if they do not go for your sword or if you are not fast enough."

Touched by the genuine anxiety Merin so obviously felt for him Lindil smiled at him kindly and assured him that the risk he was taking was very little. This seemed to calm him a trifle until Lindil said that elves healed quickly. He was obliged then to add that it was improbable that he would ever have to prove that statement.

"This does seem like a rather odd scheme," said Mithlhach, "I agree with Sarin that we will surely think of a much better idea once the danger is passed but since this is the only one we currently have I think we should go ahead with it."

Lindil drew his sword. They decided that since the dwarves were wearing light armour they should be in line in case a new line of arrows was shot and that Mithlhach would be sheltered to the right of them. On the count of three they all rushed forward. A torrent of arrows sped after them. As they thought, the arrows hit Lindil's sword as it was the first thing they could hit however, they seemed to have misjudged the speed. Suddenly the arrows would be shot slower so that Lindil had to slow down himself to escape being shot and then just as suddenly they would speed up again so that Sarin, who was last, escaped arrows by a hairsbreadth.

"How far does this last?" shouted out Lindil.

"Just till that red door," replied Mithlhach.

She was holding the lantern and held it higher so that the light fell further forward and a door could be seen not too far away from them. Closer and closer it got but whenever they felt they had almost reached it the arrows would slow them down. Finally it was just ahead and the arrows were fast. They hit the end of Lindil's sword loudly and then stopped. With a big bang they all fell against the door in relief. Merin took out a handkerchief to mop his brow while they caught their breath.

"The arrows have not stopped yet!" cried Mithlhach.

She was quite right. The arrows seemed to have stopped when they reached the other side but now they were being shot from the beginning again. Mithlhach watched them get quickly closer. Within seconds they would be dead. Lindil attempted to open the door but it had no handle. 

"Mithlhach!"

She quickly turned around and began to push the door. The others followed her example. They had not failed to notice that the wall beside them had not just one hole for the arrow to come through but several. They could only assume that it meant several arrows would be shot at them at once. With a mighty creak the red door finally yielded and they fell forward onto the ground just as they heard the arrows whistling past behind them.

Mithlhach laughed with relief and stood up. She offered her hand to Merin and helped him up. The others looked up in awe.

"This, my friends, is the Red Chamber," said Mithlhach.

The tall walls around them were tinged red though they could not tell why and in front of them were what seemed to be a hundred steps leading onto a high platform. Mithlhach started to climb them and the rest followed. The closer to the top they came, the warmer it seemed to get. When, exhausted, they reached the top of the platform they saw a strange well in the middle of it. But it did not contain water. Instead it held a red, thick and fiery mass far below. Like fire it seemed, but solid. The heat it gave was intense even though they were not so close to it. The light of it gave their faces a red glow so that they looked as red as the room. Beside the well was a stone chair, beautifully carved in such a way that the stone itself seemed as though it were made of flames. Five of the six walls were carved in the same way making the companions feel as though they were inside a fire itself. 

Steps led down from the six sides of the platform to each wall. Mithlhach went a few steps down one side and sat down to look at the sixth wall. The wall without fire. In a strong contrast this wall was grey and cool. The carvings on it were like the waves of the sea and in the centre was painted a picture so lifelike that all but Mithlhach gasped.

"Yes, she is beautiful," said Mithlhach.

The painting was of a dark haired woman standing in a dress as blue as her rather translucent eyes with a staff in her hand and a swan at her heels. She was beautiful but not as beautiful as many Lindil had seen, as her beauty lay more in her soft smile and the glow of her cheeks. The staff she held was shaped at the top as a swan's head gazing out at the world ahead.

When Lindil turned he saw that Mithlhach was no longer sitting on the stairs. He climbed up to the platform and saw her sitting in the stone chair gazing mournfully down the well.

The chair was so big that her booted feet did not touch the ground but she looked like she belonged in it just like the room fit her somehow, as if it was meant for her. But her eyes were full of sorrow and bitterness. When she looked up and saw him there he got but a glimpse of the pain before her eyes quickly became hard as if she had closed the door to her heart and shut in the grief.

"Let us go now," she said, "I told you he would not be here."

She slid off the tall chair and took one last long look at the painting of the woman.

"She was my mother," she said in a hollow voice, "She died when I was born."

"Why did you not want us to come here?" asked Merin.

"It was dangerous."

"Is that the truth? Or is it because you were afraid he was here?" asked Sarin.

"'Tis strange how hope turns to fear over the years," she said and would say no more of the matter, "Let us leave now, this place makes me feel lost and inadequate. It is she who should be here. Not me."

They walked down the stairs to a red door framed with gleaming jewels.

"This is not the door we came in by," said Corin.

"We cannot go out that way," explained Mithlhach, "And we cannot come in from this door. I do not know how or why it is."

This door opened with far more ease but once they were all safely outside, it closed itself behind them. They were now out in the evening air and the stars were beginning to fill the sky. Lindil turned back to see the door but there was no longer any trace of it at all. 

"It has disappeared," cried Corin.

"An ancient magic," said Lindil, "And strong at that. Whoever made that room…"

"Let us eat," interrupted Mithlhach, "I feel as though I have not eaten in an age." 


	4. Eryn Lasgalen

Chapter 4

Lindil had unwound Mithlach's bandage to check her wound. It was healing well he told her and wrapped it afresh. She had worried him that morning when she climbed out of the tree she had been sleeping in and suddenly collapsed on the ground. She refused to let him or the others help her up and lay for a while staring at the clouds before getting up herself with a smile, standing very straight and walking purposefully towards the pot from last night where they had kept the left over meat from their supper. She seemed amused when he asked to check her wound but as all was well there was naught to worry about.

He only just finished tying the bandage when Mithlach suddenly turned her head towards the forest. She stood up and drew her sword and with great calm she said,

"I am needed."

The dwarves immediately collected their things but Mithlach had already been enveloped by the darkness under the trees and was soon out of sight. Lindil followed her but could not find her, though he did find a voice in the air, crying out for help. Giving up his search for Mithlach he followed the cry instead. It certainly was not Mithlach but he guessed that she had heard it and was looking for its source herself.

Dodging through the thick slimy branches he could hear the dwarves trudging along at some distance behind him. He grit his teeth and silently cursed their lumbering ways for it made it harder to hear the voice. He gained speed angrily and soon was far enough from the dwarves, and close enough to the source of the cries to finally find it.

He suddenly saw, not far ahead, a willowy elf-maiden; clad in green, with her long fair hair framing her frightened face, shrinking against the tree behind her. She screamed in terror for before her, tall and as black as darkness was a giant creature with many shiny eyes and many spindly legs. The elf-maiden held a dagger in her hand but knew it was no match for the giant spider drooling in anticipation of eating her.

Lindil lost no time in aiming an arrow at it and shooting. The arrow went deep into its body and the creature wailed piercingly in agony. But it was not dead and would have jumped at the elf had a sword, almost as black as itself, not swung out of the gloom and killed it with a horrid squelch.

Lindil went towards the elf to comfort her. She was pale still but calm as she looked from him to Mithlach who was also approaching her.

"Thank you," she said to them both, "But..."

She pointed up and they saw two small bundles of web wiggling on the higher branches of a tree. Mithlach immediately proceeded to climb the tree and cut them down while Lindil caught each one by one and the female elf gingerly cut open the bundles with her own dagger.

Elf children emerged from them, pale and weeping. Their mother, for that is who she was, held them close and wept for joy herself.

"Thank you," she said again, through her tears, "I am Tatharien. Who are you?"

"I am Lindil of Rivendell," replied the elf, "And this is…"

"Ohtarwen," replied Mithlach.

Tatharien looked closer at her curiously and looked as if she would ask her something but instead she bid them follow her as she explained how her children had been playing and gone astray when the giant spider had caught them and she had run after it. It was unexpected, she explained; for much of Mirkwood had been free of fell creatures and few lurked among the trees, especially near where the wood-elves were establishing new homes.   
As they followed her, the gloom seemed to melt into the ground and lose itself under the springy green grass and flowers could be seen above them peeking cheekily out from behind the leaves. A sweet fragrance filled the air and soon soft singing was heard in the distance. 

Ahead of them many elves were sitting around a long table enjoying supper. Twas not till then that Mithlach remembered the dwarves and glanced behind her as if she expected them to be there. Not surprisingly, they weren't.

The elves looked up at the strangers and there was a single silent moment as they took in what they saw. Tatharien quickly explained what had happened. The stern elf at the head of the table listened to her patiently before turning back to the strangers. Mithlach could not help feeling that his gaze rested on her for longer. He looked as curiously at her as Tatharien had. He invited the two to join them at the table and all praised them. As they ate, several elves stared at Mithlach and soon she discovered why.

"We have had many visitors," the elf at the head of the table said quietly to Mithlach, "Tell me, do you also come from Dol Amroth?"

"Yes," replied Mithlach, her eyes aglow, "Who has visited you? Was it anyone by the name of Himthol?"

"That name is unknown to me," he said to her considerable disappointment, "They were messengers from the Prince looking for a young maiden. A young maiden with dark curls and blue-grey eyes. A maiden in possession of a red gem."

His eyes rested on Mithlach's ring as she held a goblet to her lips to drink. She put down the goblet and asked him if he knew what that message was. Unfortunately, he did not know. Mithlach ran her finger around the rim of the goblet and glanced once at Lindil, who was talking merrily with an old friend, and then back at the elf she had been speaking to.

"Do you know where they are now?" she asked softly.

"The people of Dale remembered you, Ohtarwen, and directed them towards Erebor where they had seen you go last."

"Then I too must go there," she said and smiled at him, "You are very good. I thank you for your kindness to a stranger who is not of your folk. It is not much seen in this world of late. But I must leave your hospitality and find my own kin."

"Very understandable."

"But first I must find a few mislaid friends."

"Perhaps I can help you."

"My friends are three dwarves."

"Then assuredly I can help you," he said and laughed. 

He spoke to an elf on his other side and told him to bring forth the prisoners. The 'prisoners' soon arrived grumbling and glaring. One looked especially glum for although dwarves' beards were often ridiculed by merry elves, his strangely shortened beard caused a great deal more merriment and even now when the glance of an elf at the table fell on him a great deal of laughter ensued.

"My poor friends," said Mithlach kneeling before them, "Where did you get to?"

"Where did we get to?" repeated Sarin in a huff, "Where did you get to? We were captured by elves quite typically, and unjustly," he added.

"Trespassers are all held prisoners unless they reveal their reason for trespassing and it is an acceptable one," said the elf-guard.

"I think I shall kick you," said Corin as if he had been deciding whether or not to for a while. 

The elf sneered at him and was sent away by the elf in charge to prevent any violence from breaking out.

"We were helping a lady in need of help," said Mithlach, "And now we must hurry back to Erebor."

"Well I'm glad of that," said Sarin, "Let us leave immediately."

Lindil had been watching them and now stood beside Mithlach.   
"Why must we hurry?" he asked and did not fail to notice the grimace Corin made when he said 'we'.

"Messengers from my home are searching for me. They are said to be in Erebor," said Mithlach, "I do not want to miss them by lingering here too long." 

Thus, they were soon on their way north-east towards the lonely mountain after bidding the wood-elves goodbye. Lindil felt reluctant to leave. He missed talking to others in his own tongue and more than that he missed Nimril. He wondered where she was and if she was thinking of him. There was so much that he wanted to tell her about already. As they walked under the starlit night he wondered what was stopping him from turning back now. Was it truly just curiosity that led him to follow this mysterious ranger? Or did he still suspect her? He knew not himself.

Yet he did know that he had a strange fondness for her company and enjoyed never knowing what she would do or say next. With Nimril he felt constantly concerned for her happiness and safety but with Mithlach he knew she could take care of herself. He could not say that he liked her independence for it unnerved him and he did not understand it. 

She was almost like a daughter but different somehow. He suddenly realised with considerable astonishment that he saw her in the light of a friend. And she was so different from any other friend he had ever had that he wanted to spend time with her. Even though the world grew old before his bright eyes he did not mind the days he spent in it with his friend.

Now, if she found the messengers she would no longer need him. The thought troubled him slightly but he put it aside and instead brought up something else that had been nagging at the back of his mind. 

"Ohtarwen?"

Mithlach turned to look at him.

"Yes?" she said.

"Is that your name then? Is that the name I should call you by?"

She smiled somewhat ruefully.

"No. As it happens it is not my true name and I would prefer you to call me Mithlach."

"How come you by this name?"

"When I first got to Dale, the people were under attack from orcs and so I did my best to help them. They have never seen a woman in battle and were quite astonished. As they did not know my name during the battle they would call me warrior-maiden and so when it was over and they asked my name I said Ohtarwen."

"Do you speak elvish?" he asked hopefully.

"I am afraid I know very little of your fair speech. I was taught some as a child but I have forgotten much."

"And dwarvish?"

She laughed.

"None at all. I do not know any but dwarves who can understand it or speak it well."

"Look at the moon," said Merin of a sudden, "Does he not shine brightly tonight, yet he is not full."

They all looked up suddenly. They were no longer under the shadow of the trees. A canopy of stars shone down on them as they walked towards the lonely mountain. Lindil felt his heart grow light and he felt that it mattered not how long he a time he spent in those ageing lands for when he departed from the Havens he would forever be with Nimril and his kindred.

He began to sing a song on these very thoughts and though Mithlach knew not what he sang she felt a sudden longing to be with her own people and a joy rising in her heart in expectation of seeing them. Her grandparents house where she lived with her brother, the neighbours' children playing merrily in the streets, the deep-grey sea stretching as far as the eye could see and the salty sea air in her nostrils. 

An archway appeared before them over an open stone door leading into the heart of the mountain. Lindil stopped to admire the delicate carvings and Mithlach stopped also to see the wonder in his face so Sarin led his brothers on ahead.

"There is such light from inside," said Lindil.

"Did you think dwarves lived in darkness?" asked Mithlach, "Come."

They entered brightly lit halls of stone where dwarves were seen carrying away and cleaning up after a feast, singing songs that felt brash on Lindil's ears. Merin gestured to them to follow him into one of the rooms. 

Inside it, a man stood dressed as a messenger but with a helm on his head from which protruded a single white swan feather, as white as snow, glistening in the lamplight. He stood with his back to them but turned when he heard Mithlach's hopeful voice utter,

"Himthol?"


	5. Erebor

Chapter 5

As the man turned to face them he smiled softly and removed the helm from his head so that his dark hair fell about his shoulders. He was young yet lines of care marked his face. His pale grey eyes drank in Mithlach's appearance resting on her apparel with evident disapproval.

"Ohtarwen, I presume?" said the man.

Mithlach drew her sword and held it steadily a hairs-breadth from his throat. 

"Who are you?" she asked.

The man looked down the dark blade at Mithlach's cool questioning eyes in considerable shock. His eyes fell for a moment on Lindil, as if for explanation, but the elf looked back it him looking slightly amused and took a seat. Having been in a similar situation not long ago Lindil could appreciate his feelings but he could now see from Mithlach's position as well. 

"My…my name is Melfalas and I am travelling with my comrades of Dol Amroth. Your brother leads us in his search for you. If you are indeed Ohtarwen."

"I am."

Mithlach's look was almost painfully penetrating as if she would draw his thoughts from his mind through his eyes, but Melfalas kept his own gaze steady till she drew back her sword and sat down beside Lindil. She motioned for Melfalas to take a seat himself and regarded him thoughtfully, twisting her ring around her finger.

"Forgive me," she said, "A maiden cannot be too careful."

Melfalas looked at her grimly but nodded as a gesture of forgiveness.

"How does my brother fare?" she asked.

"He fares well but anxiously awaits your return home. He is currently camping in the woods with the other knights of Prince Imrahil. I was told to wait with the dwarves and send word when you returned. Do you wish me to send word now?"

"No, you may leave in the morning. For now you may rest. There is no hurry."

Melfalas disliked the authorative tone of her voice and stiffened considerably.

"Then tomorrow we travel together," he said matching her tone.

"I fear that is not possible. I have a few things to attend to on the morrow so I shall depart in the evening."

"I see," said Melfalas, "And who, may I ask, is your companion?"

"I," said the elf, "am Lindil, son of Lindir of Rivendell."

Lindil stood to greet Melfalas who returned the greeting and asked politely how the elf came to meet 'Ohtarwen'. Lindil glanced at Mithlach who only shrugged and so he told Melfalas how they had met. Melfalas listened with his lips-pursed and at the end apologised for her behaviour, assuring Lindil that not all maidens, in fact no other maiden, from Dol Amroth had her rather unusual temperament.

Sensing that Mithlach was thinking of her sword again, Lindil hastily said what a shame that was and that he enjoyed seeing the changes taking place in middle-earth, but the man only lost some of his respect for the elf and bidding them goodnight, left abruptly.

The elf turned to Mithlach with a twinkle in his eye. 

"Your redeemer seems to frown upon your mode of life."

"It is no concern of his," she replied staring darkly at the closed door from whence he had left.

"No indeed. Do you trust him?"

"I do not yet know," she said and looked up at him, "Do you also depart with the rising of the sun?"

"No. I may stay yet with you and depart in the evening where we shall part ways in the woods."

"So be it. Come, I must see a friend. Vim said there would be a surprise for me upon my return. I shall have a surprise for Vim also," she added mischievously, "in the fair form of an elf."

"I deem it more likely to be an unpleasant shock for the poor dwarf. As it was for your other dwarf friends."

"Not all dwarfs are alike, my friend. 'Tis not wise to judge the many by the few."

Lindil agreed and they walked out into the bright hall where the lamps glowed brightly like golden orbs and a great fire warmed the stone walls. Great staircases rose from many sides of the great pillared hall. Mithlach singled one out and began to climb it and soon they passed under a jewelled arch and the ground became flat. Ahead of them stretched a long tunnel from which many doors branched off to the sides but in such order that it seemed, as they walked along the corridor, that they were not moving at all. All the doors were precisely the same size and shape (as were the striking lamps hanging outside them) the ground was smooth and level and only by dwarf runes on the walls could any part of the corridor be distinguished from any other part. Mithlach stopped outside a door and pushed it gently ajar.

"Vim?" she said, "It is I, Ohtarwen."

"Come in, child," came a voice.

Mithlach stepped inside and smiled warmly at the dwarf sitting before her. A short beard flowed from the dwarves chin hiding partly the blue cloth the dwarf was busy stitching. Mithlach turned to Lindil who was still standing outside the room.

"You may come in but do not reveal to anyone that you came here."

"More secrecy? Why does that not surprise me?" he said.

He entered the room much to the dwarves utter shock but Mithlach spoke soothingly and motioned Lindil to take a seat while she herself sat by the dwarf. The dwarf was very soon calmed and sat looking closely at Lindil and Mithlach.

"How do you fare Vim?" asked Mithlach.

"Very well indeed," was the gruff reply, "In spite of young maidens bringing elves into my bedchamber. What's this?"

Vim had noticed the bandage around Mithlach's arm.

"A mere scratch," replied Mithlach, "What do you sew there?"

"It was to be a surprise. A gown for you, for it has been many a year since you have worn aught but your tough ranger clothes. Tis almost ready. I hear you leave us soon."

"Tomorrow evening," said Mithlach with a sad smile.

Vim moved aside the gown and reached for a handkerchief into which the poor dwarf wept miserably and alarmingly (to Lindil) loudly.

"Now now, my love," said Mithlach, "I shall visit you. You must not cry. Especially before an elf. Why, I have not introduced you two. Vim, this is Lindil, son of Lindir of the valley of Rivendell. Lindil, this is Vim Icytears, sister-daughter of Sarin."

Lindil almost gasped. Sister-daughter! A female dwarf? He did not know they even existed. Now that Vim had stood up to greet him he was aware that she wore a gown yet the beard remained to baffle him.

"At your service," said Lindil.

"And I at yours and your family's," replied Vim with a sniff.

She had wiped the tears from her eyes and blew her nose loudly before settling down and stowing away the gown for fear that Mithlach would see too much of it. She then asked Mithlach of her adventures since last she had left the lonely mountain. Mithlach related the events animatedly and when she got to the part where she met Lindil she insisted he tell the rest which he did with all his elvish talent for stories and soon the story developed into a song. By the end of which Mithlach and Vim praised Lindil with much praise. Lindil was rather astonished himself. He had not even noticed when the narration had broken into song.

"You must write that for me," said Vim warmly.

"I shall indeed," said Lindil with a smile.

"Now you both look exhausted so you had better retire to your own bedchambers to have a hot bath and a deep sleep. Good night."

"Goodnight," said Mithlach planting a gentle kiss on Vim's cheek and following Lindil from the room.

"Where can I find parchment to write upon?" asked Lindil as Mithlach led him through the seemingly endless corridors.

"I have some with me," she said, taking it out of her bag and handing it to him, "Why is it you ask?"

"To write my song for Vim of course!"

"Did you like her then?"

"Yes. A very pleasant dwarf indeed. I see why she is so close to your heart."

"It gladdens my heart to hear you say so. I thought you would never be fond of any dwarf."

"I thought so myself. Why, in truth, I would not have believed it possible days ago. How Nimril will laugh when I tell her. She will claim not to believe me though in her heart she knows I would never utter a false word to her."

"Nimril? I know enough elvish to know her to be the elf-maiden I saw with you in the forest who lit up the dark like a moon on the ground."

"How truly you speak. Silver and radiant, more brilliant than mithril. We are to be wed when we reach the undying lands."

"What sorrow you must feel from being parted from her and what a wretch I feel for being the reason for your delay in returning to her. I console myself with the fact that you begin your journey to the havens tomorrow. Else I would pray for a mighty eagle to lift you away this very moment and carry you to the blessed shores as soon as its swift wings could take you."

"If the eagle came I would wish for it to take you to your home first."

"Oh how I miss my brother. I returned to see him as often as I could, but since the shadow began to extend a hand to Isengard I have been unable to go back. How he must have changed. How I must have changed. Would he recognise his sister as she looks now, weary from unending travels? Sometimes I fear I shall never see his face again or look into those eyes that are a mirror of my own."

"Do not despair for we know him to be close and soon you shall be reunited."

"You are indeed right. It is the weariness on me that makes me think so. A hot bath in my chamber will do much to restore my spirits as it has done in the past. You have three brothers of your own I believe."

"Four," replied Lindil, "Though you saw only three. My youngest brother remains faithfully in Rivendell with his friends Elladan and Elrohir the fair and brave sons of Lord Elrond. Perhaps my brothers have already set sail from the havens."

"I do not feel that they would leave without you and Nimril, for Nimril would assuredly not leave without you and they would not leave your betrothed by herself. Here," Mithlach pushed open a door, "You shall sleep here for the night."

Lindil ducked under the low doorframe and looked about the room. A fire burned merrily opposite a low, short bed. The sound of trickling water turned his gaze towards the far corner where a fountain glistened and threw patterns of light on the walls. 

"Sleep well," said Mithlach.

"Sleep well."

Mithlach finally retired to her own room to follow Vim's sage counsel: have a hot bath and a deep sleep.


	6. Partings

Chapter 6

As the first rays of the sun smote the great land, Lindil searched for Mithlach. He would not ask the dwarves he passed in search of her. They seldom appeared but when they did they eyed him curiously and gave him a wide berth. They had heard that the maiden had brought with her an elf from Imladris so they left him alone but did not approve of his presence.

A sudden fresh breeze caught Lindil's senses and he followed the pleasant air until he reached an opening in the stone walls from which a shelf jutted out looking down towards Greenwood. Mithlach stood near the edge and beside her was Melfalas. He had his helm upon his head and a shield upon his arm bearing the figure of a white swan. 

"Yea indeed I see it now," said Mithlach, "It should not take me long to join you there."

"Then if all is clear I shall leave you now."

"Fare thee well."

"Fare thee well," replied Melfalas and walked back.

He saw Lindil and greeted him before hurrying to leave the mountains but Mithlach remained at the edge of the shelf with her cloak blowing in the air behind her. Lindil walked silently towards her but as he drew close she turned and was not surprised to see him. Her dark hair was confined at her neck yet the wind blew a few stray curls into her face as she spoke to him.

"I hope you had a good rest," she said.

"As good as an elf can have in these halls of stone," replied Lindil.

Mithlach turned back to her contemplation of the forest and Lindil stood beside her and followed her gaze. In a small clearing he saw a camp of men. Some were in tents while others were busy packing things onto horses. Suddenly from the mountain itself he saw a man making his way in the direction of the camp. 

"So that is where your brother is?" said Lindil.

"Yes. Can you see them? I can only see the whites of the tents and nothing more."

"Assuredly I see them."

"Do you see my brother? He is tall though not as tall as the others, his eyes are the same as mine, more blue than grey."

"I do not see him. Many have helms that obscure their faces and I deem a few to be under cover of the tents."

"But he must be there. Melfalas said he was there."

"You do not sound as though you believe him."

"I do believe him to be telling the truth. Yet I do not feel that my brother is there. I cannot explain it to you. In my heart I cannot see him near."

She looked up at him and he saw the sorrow in her eyes.

"I do not know," she said shaking her head, "Perhaps after all these years my heart has trouble believing I shall truly see him again, my only kin in this world. I saw him but briefly a year ago, to be sure he was well and to assure him I too was well."

"Why so briefly? Why not stay in Dol Amroth then?"

"I cannot tell you. It causes me pain to bring forth those memories. Please do not speak of it. Come, we have tarried here too long and there is much I must do and many to see."

Lindil followed but was not satisfied. He would certainly hear her story before he parted from her later that day. For now she could keep her secret as long as it pleased her.

They went deep down to the very heart of the mountain; a strong heat met them halfway and increased gradually as they went on. But with it came the smell of smoke. An iron door was pushed open revealing the place of working dwarves, amid furnaces, busy twisting and hammering precious metals into wondrous and stunning shapes.

"Ohtarwen!"

They heard the dwarf call out amid the pounding and they went to meet him. Mithlach introduced him to Lindil as Vrór but Vrór was not interested in anything but Mithlach's sword that he insisted on inspecting.

"Vrór crafted my sword for me," explained Mithlach.

Vrór ran a finger down the blade over the dwarf runes he had himself carved into it. 

"A great heat I needed to be able to carve these in so cleanly," he said without looking up, "But for Mithlach I would not have achieved it. A great power she holds over the flames as though they are slaves to her will. Ah what is this! Your sword is notched. Tis a mighty good thing you came down to see me. You do not take as good care of this sword as you ought."

The dwarf looked up at Mithlach reproachfully before carrying the sword tenderly away to sharpen it and restore it to its former splendour. 

"What power do you hold over flames, Mithlach?" asked Lindil, "For I too feel as Vrór does."

"I have no power over anything but myself," she replied.

"Tell me," he began and encountered a sharp glance, "Tell me, why did your dear friend Melfalas leave with such speed this morning?"

A roguish spark appeared in her eye as she said gravely.

"I fear my company was too much for him."

"What did you do to him?" he asked, smiling.

"Why, nothing," she said innocently, "What on middle-earth could I possibly do. Me, a mere maiden."

"I see he has angered you."

"Not at all."

Lindil looked at her closely and felt that this time she was serious for sure. Melfalas had angered her that was also a surety but she did not seem angry any longer.

"Has he perhaps paid for his insolence?" he asked.

"How could a mere maiden know that? Could she match him in knowledge and lore? Surely she could not match him in swordplay, let alone exceed his skilfulness?"

"I deem that she could."

"Then you will be happy to know that she certainly could, and indeed (much to the poor man's dismay, disbelief and disapproval) did."

"I pity him."

"No more than I. I cannot deny that he did fight very well and had he not made the mistake of underestimating his opponent, he would have not been defeated so quickly and, might I add, easily. Now where has that Vrór got to?"

She soon spotted him coming towards her polishing the sword with a cloth. Taking him by the shoulder, Mithlach looked down at him and had to give him a shake to get his attention.

"I did not come to you merely for my ill-used sword's sake," she told him, "I have come to say farewell. I leave by nightfall to be with my own kin."

"Leave? But..." he looked down at the sword in his hands. 

He seemed to feel a deep distress at the thought of losing it forever. Never again holding the dark beauty in his hands, gleaming and pure.

"Do not worry," said Mithlach, "You may keep the sword if you wish."

"Keep the sword? No! What foolish talk you let your lips utter. The sword is yours, made for you and partly by you in fact. I could never part you from it."

He handed it to her with shaking hands, gazing at the awesome black metal, smoother than the calmest sea and seemingly as liquid. 

"Let me see the blade slice the air one last time," he said.

Mithlach smiled and deftly moved the dark blade through the air as if fighting off an invisible foe. It was true. Anyone could see that the sword was made for her, the right weight and length for her stature, perfectly balanced. A masterpiece to be proud of. Vrór dried his eyes and handed Mithlach a handful of arrows, which she quickly stowed away.

"You have your dagger?" asked Vrór.

"Yes."

"Good, good. Farewell then Ohtarwen."

The dwarf then went back to his work, so engrossed that he didn't even notice they were still there or perhaps did not care. Lindil was rather surprised but Mithlach just smiled and walked away.

They saw many dwarves that day; some showed a degree of sadness to see her go while others showed none at all. They decided to see Vim last of all, but as Sarin and his brothers would be with her, Lindil would wait for Mithlach elsewhere. He handed Mithlach the parchment upon which he had written the song for Vim and made his way out of the stone home.

Mithlach talked to her dwarf friends for a long time before she realised how late the hour was. She made them promise to see her in Dol Amroth but knew that Vim could not come. Mithlach would have to come to see her if she wished to see her again at all. 

"And I shall come," Mithlach told Vim, "Do not fear I shall forget you."

"I should hope not. Especially not after I made you this," replied Vim handing her the blue gown, packed securely and carefully. Mithlach put it in her pack but first withdrew from the pack a gift for Vim.

"So that you always remember me," she said.

It was a jewel the size of a man's fist and the colour of Mithlach's eyes. Deep inside it a light seemingly flickered. Vim gasped as she took it in trembling hands. 

"A gift fit for a queen!" said Merin.

"For a queen of friends," said Mithlach.

"Now don't fill her head with such ideas," said Sarin, "Queen indeed."

"And what for us?" asked Corin, "Do you hide more of such gifts in that bag of yours?"

"Impudent fool," scolded Sarin, "What a thing to ask. Have you no manners."

"I'm afraid he does not. And neither do I have any gifts for you," said Mithlach.

"That is fair," said Merin, "For we have nothing to give you either."

Mithlach laughed and finally and regretfully took her leave. Sarin trudged along beside her down the staircase to the great doors where Lindil was waiting for her.

"Merin is quite silly," said Sarin, "You know that."

"That I do."

"And Corin is a brash young fool."

"That also I know."

"But you are the biggest fool of them all."

"Indeed?" she said looking down at him.

"Indeed," he said, undaunted, and held up a small axe in front of her eyes. She looked at it from the mithril blade to the jewel encrusted handle. 

"How could you believe we would let you leave empty handed?" said Sarin taking her hand and putting the axe into it, closing her fingers over the handle.

"I made that!" cried Corin from behind them.

"With my help, of course," said Sarin.

Mithlach had just begun to thank them when Merin came puffing along calling out to her to wait.

"I have something for you too," he said.

Into her other hand he placed a pair of leather sandals.

"For you cannot wear those heavy boots all of the time," he explained.

"Thank you all," said Mithlach, "Now I wish more than ever that I had something to give you."

"You took us to the Red Chamber," said Sarin, "And have many times helped us through perils, with the risk of your own life. These are small tokens of our gratitude and friendship. Now go, before that elf of yours comes to take us to task for delaying you."

With a final farewell Mithlach joined Lindil under the evening sky tucking the axe into her belt and holding her cloak about her to hide the gleam that would be all too easy to spot in the dark from afar. 

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting," she said.

"I understand your delay and therefore forgive it. But come now, your brother awaits."

They strode swiftly and silently though Lindil had many questions that he needed her to answer. He glanced at her profile in the darkness and wished that he knew what she was thinking. Was she glad that her days in the wild were coming to an end or did she want to stay a ranger, protecting in secret the free peoples and doing whatever her heart desired? He knew not what her heart desired. Only that she wished to see her brother again. 

"Mithlach," he said breaking the silence, "Will you not tell me now, why it is you left Dol Amroth and why you have not made a journey home till now?"

"I shall tell you as much as I can. I left because…because my own people turned against me. The details are not important. It became necessary for me to leave my home and my name behind with it. Many there believe me to be dead now. My brother was loth for me to depart but he knew it was not safe for me to stay. I was to travel to Bree and stay there. But the people of Bree are not friendly to outsiders so I decided to stay in the wild, take up the role of ranger and kill fell creatures wherever I found them. It suited me much better than my life at Bree.

"As for why I didn't return before now. My brother said he would send word when it was safe for me to come home and the last time I saw him… it was not altogether safe."

"Yet you had planned to go back before you heard of the messengers," Lindil stopped suddenly as he remembered, "You said that if the king had returned you would return home." 

"Yes, for that would mean the dark lord had fallen."

"You bewilder me. I thought it was the enmity of your people that prevented your homecoming. How are the two linked?" 

"I cannot tell you."

"Why?" asked Lindil, his impatience sparking anger, "Do you trust me so little?"

"No, dear friend," said Mithlach gently, "I fear I shall lose the little trust you have in me." 

"If you would but tell me…"

"This is where we part, Lindil. Do not let there be trouble between us now. Have a safe journey to the grey havens and think no more of me or my secrets. Let them be."

"I cannot be satisfied by such an answer."

"You shall have to be. There is no more. Farewell."

Lindil drew his bow and swiftly strung an arrow on it. He aimed it at her heart. She shook her head but made no action to move or draw her sword.

"Now tell me, Mithlach."

"Why are you doing this? What does it matter to you, you who shall depart from these lands before long? You have just shown how much you trust me. It is now impossible for me to tell you aught. Leave now."

Lindil let his bow and arrow fall to the ground and put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Forgive me," he said softly, "You know I would never have let that arrow fly loose. I see you truly are in earnest and shall trouble you with questions no more. I too wish to part with good feeling, yet how can I do so with so many unanswered questions in my mind? But, I shall leave now as you wish. Fare thee well, child. May you have happiness for all your days."

Mithlach clasped the hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Lindil. You have been the best of companions and shall be much missed. I hope Nimril forgives me for hindering your departure from these lands. Give her my good wishes for a blissful life."

"That I shall."

With that, Lindil picked up his bow and arrow and with one last smile, stepped into the west. Mithlach watched the bright form of the elf disappear into the shadows before turning her own face south to find the camp. The empty, cold darkness closed in about her as she made her solitary and steady way. 


	7. Ohtar

Chapter 7

 Mithlach's quick steps did not falter. She knew she was making straight for the camp. It would not be long before she reached it.   

 How alone she had been for so long until she met Lindil. Yet it was not until now, when her companion was no longer with her, that she felt the void created by years of loneliness and isolation.

 But no longer would she be parted from her kin. No longer far from the land she came from and loved. Soon, she would be with her blood, her brother and go home where she belonged, breathing the salt sea air and looking up at the seagulls circling the great Castle of Dol Amroth.

Her heart fluttered within her. Her people would accept her now for certain. Why would they not? She paused. She had heard something. The sound of deep voices in conversation. Her own dear brother? 

Her step quickened and she found herself in a clearing where the camp had been. The tents were gone, as were the men and horses. All but two of each remained standing around a fire.

 Melfalas was the first to see her.

 "Ohtarwen," he said and the man he was speaking to turned to look at her, "Here is your brother."

 Mithlach looked at the other man and told him to remove his helm. He did so and looked at her with grey-blue eyes. He was older than her by many a year but her years in the wild made her appear the same age.

 "Ohtar," she said finally.

 "So you recognise me," said the man with a smile.

 "Yes," she said, "But where is my brother?"

 "But this is your brother," said Melfalas with wrinkled brow.

 "Do you believe I do not know my own brother? Perhaps it is the name that fooled you. Ohtar is not my brother. My brother is Himthol."

 "So that is why you uttered that name when you first met me? But I know no Himthol."

 "Of course you don't," said Ohtar, "You cannot expect to know all who serve the Prince. Well 'Ohtarwen' ,if that is what you wish to be called, are you ready for your journey home?"

 "Yes to both your questions. But do not think the name 'Ohtarwen' was chosen with any regard for you," she replied coolly.

 "Always the fiery spirit," laughed Ohtar.

 "Which of these horses is for me?" she asked, disregarding his remark.

 "I'm afraid you shall have to share my steed, if you do not object."

 "I object most strongly. I would rather follow on foot."

 Ohtar turned and gave quick orders to Melfalas to take his horse and make his way to meet the others on their way to Dol Amroth. Melfalas mounted the horse and looked back once before riding away in a hurry.

 "I shall follow on foot," said Mithlach, "Unless you would rather follow on foot and let me ride the horse."

 "Whatever you wish," said Ohtar and took out his bow and arrow.

 Mithlach began to draw her sword but Ohtar laughed again and told her not to be such a fool. He held an arrow in the fire so that the end was aflame and then shot it high into the air.

 "A sign for the others, who were not with the camp when it departed, that you have been found," he explained and swiftly shot another into the dark sky.

 "Like in the rhyme," said Mithlach.

 "Rhyme?"

 "Yes, one I learnt as a child though I cannot remember it well."

 "Come, I shall take the horse and if you still refuse to join me you may walk beside me."

 "How gracious of you."

 "So you do prefer to walk? Hand me your bag at least so that you do not feel the burden of it."

 Mithlach did so but as she handed the bag to him she saw his gaze stray to the ring on her hand. He looked up to see her eyes resting on him, smiled and turned away.

They began slowly and mostly in silence. Ohtar asked Mithlach a few questions but as her answers were blunt he soon gave up starting a conversation. She seemed to be deep in thought, muttering to herself now and again. They had not gone far when she stopped walking.

 "Now I remember," she said.

 "Are you sure you will not take a bite to eat?" asked Ohtar.

 "Though the beginning continues to evade my memory," she continued, ignoring him.

 "Perhaps something to drink," said Ohtar, "You must be thirsty from walking so far."

 Mithlach sang softly under her breath,

"…The old man to the brave knights said

Shoot one fiery arrow if he is found

Two of such if he is found dead. "

 In a flash Mithlach's sword was out but the world suddenly turned black and the sword slipped from her hand. With difficulty Mithlach forced open her eyes and tried to make sense of what had occurred. Ohtar had struck her and she had fallen forward onto the ground. Her sword appeared before her as her vision cleared so she reached a hand towards it, but her hand was crushed under a booted foot. 

 "You cannot have your sword, I'm afraid. I have heard of your skill from Melfalas," she heard Ohtar's mocking voice say.

 Mithlach managed to snatch back her hand and as soon as it was free she grasped Ohtar's boot and pulled it so that he fell. Before long her sword was back in her hand but Ohtar also had his sword. He lunged it at her but she countered it. The blow was soon followed by another and the clash of steel against steel filled the air. 

 "What do you want?" demanded Mithlach as they fought.

 "Only to rid the world of fell creatures like you."

 Mithlach angrily pushed his sword against him with her own so that the blades were at both sides of his face, one blade fair and the other black as night.

 "Kill me then," he said, "It is what I would expect from an evil sorceress such as yourself."

 Mithlach drew away holding her sword out in front of her.

 "I am not what you think me," she said, "How can I prove to you that I am just the same as you?"

 "Do not compare yourself to me. We all know of your spells and the power you evoke from your ring."

 "Spells? Power? What foolishness. My ring has no power."

 "Then remove it from your hand."

 "Will you then believe that I am not evil?"

 "Yes. If you hand it to me."

 "That I shall never do."

 "So, you fear to lose the power your father gave you with it. I would have thought it had lost its power now that he has fallen but your refusal to give it up makes it appear otherwise."

 "My father left it for me, that is true, but it holds no power. What power do you think it possesses?"

 "It is a ring of fire, creating flames and protecting the wearer from fire. Is it not true that you do not burn?"

 Ohtar suddenly came at her striking hard with his sword and she blocked him swiftly but was forced to move backwards.   
 All of a sudden she found herself surrounded by dazzling flames. He had forced her into the fire that still burned in the clearing. The shock made her hesitate and Ohtar took the chance to pierce her sword arm and knock the sword from her now slack grip. Mithlach tumbled backwards out of the blaze, sweat was on her brow and her clothes were singed but Ohtar was right, she did not burn.

 A dagger was stabbed into her leg and the pain from pulling it out caused her to collapse. She looked up; ready to aim the dagger at Ohtar, but there was no sign of him among the long shadows of the trees.

 Carefully, she stood and backed into a tree, looking about her. She quietened her own breath and from among the sounds of small animals in the woods she could discern a steady breathing ahead of her in the shadows. Ohtar was not very close. She could sense his hatred in the air. She could also sense his fear. But she knew she was losing blood fast and could not stay standing for much longer. She held the dagger between her teeth to free her hand and tore a piece of her cloak. She used it to bind her leg, staying the flowing blood as she listened for Ohtar. As she had expected, Ohtar came out of hiding seeing her at a disadvantage. She looked up and took the dagger from her teeth to hurl at him but it missed and he continued to advance. As he drew nearer she reached further down her leg to her boot and brought forth her own dagger. Now she stood up straight and glared at him, a faint sneer on her lips, baring her teeth like a vicious warg.

 He paused for a moment, fearful of the fire he saw in her eyes. The blood from her arm was dripping down the blade so she changed the dagger from her right hand to her left.

 Ohtar deemed her to be losing strength, although her eyes remained bright and mocking. He took a step forward and she would have stabbed him but he caught her wrist and twisted it, wresting the dagger from her and letting it fall. Mithlach's right hand made a fist and Ohtar felt the blow of it shatter a few of his teeth but he swiftly returned the blow and she crumpled to the ground.

 When Mithlach next opened her eyes she was sitting with her back against a tree with her hands tied around it. She felt someone trying to take the ring from her finger so she closed her hand into a fist. 

 "Open your hand," said Ohtar from behind her, "Give me the ring."

 "No!"

 "Then I shall remove it from your hand along with your fingers."

 He sliced her hand gently, only just breaking the skin.

 "Open your hand and I shall go no further," he said.

 "No," she cried, "You cannot have it! It is my only…" she screamed suddenly as he pressed the blade deeper into her hand.

 "It is my only link to my father," she gasped, keeping her fist tight, "You shall not take him from me."

   But as the blade cut even deeper Mithlach felt her hand open of its own accord and Ohtar took the bloody ring from her finger. He came around to face her and she eyed him wearily.

 "Why take the ring first?" she asked bitterly, "Would it not be easier to first take my life?" 

 "I must destroy the ring before I destroy you. Or at the very least take it from you so that I can kill you."

 He stood surveying the ring in wonder giving Mithlach a few moments to plan an escape. As soon as he had looked his fill at the ring he would kill her. Even if he spared her life, she deemed that she could not last much longer. Fighting back her tears she reached for the rope binding her hands and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger.

Lindil pondered over all the things Mithlach had ever told him hoping that somehow, put together, they would form a clear picture, but too many pieces were missing. They had to be filled for he was not content with leaving the mystery uncovered. How could he go without learning the whole truth?

 The elf looked back. He had travelled a long way and it felt odd not having Mithlach striding alongside him. Should he turn back, find all the answers he wished for? True, she had made it clear that he would learn no more from her but her brother might yet tell him something. 

 Still, he hesitated. Nimril was waiting for him, as were his brothers. They were waiting for him but they did not need him. Did Mithlach? Did she need anyone? Lindil was torn.

 "You cannot have it! It is my only…" the words seemed to echo in his memory, "You shall not take him from me." Whether Mithlach needed him or not, he needed answers and would not leave middle-earth without them.  Pleased with this perspective, Lindil strode swiftly southeast, as quick and silent as a deer. As he drew nearer the camp he saw a glint in the darkness. The glint of a sword in firelight. He sped towards it but it had been far off. Gradually the trees began to clear and he saw a flame flickering weakly on a rope around a tree trunk. On either side of the burning rope was a bloodstained shaking hand. Lindil recognised the intricate designs on the gauntlets and though the absence of the ring puzzled him he knew it was Mithlach. Someone held her captive but he could not see who for the trees barred his view. He saw the hands start to struggle and so he quickly aimed an arrow at the rope binding them. 

 Mithlach pulled her hands away from each other, praying that the flame had burnt the rope attaching them, enough for it to break, but to no avail. She could not even reach the axe that was still at her side, hidden under her cloak. The rope cut into her wrists so she stopped struggling and had resigned herself to her fate when suddenly she felt a thud ripple through the tree behind her. Her hands fell loose.

 A shining blade came for her neck but she blocked it with her axe and pushed it away sharply. Ohtar looked at her, shocked. Mithlach struggled to her feet with axe in hand, ready for revenge.

 "How…?" began Ohtar.

 Then he saw the charred rope around her wrists. He looked at the ring he held and then at Mithlach. Her eyes burned into his and he took an involuntary step back. 

 "Return the ring to me," said Mithlach slowly, "And I may yet let you live."

 But Ohtar only closed his hand around it and ran for his horse. Mithlach tried to follow him forgetting the pain in her leg but she could not take more than a step and he was too fast for her. She watched him mount the horse and then threw her axe at him. It caught him between the shoulder blades and ripped from him a cry of agony but he grabbed the reigns and fled into the darkness crying, "The child of Sauron lives!".

 Exhausted and frustrated Mithlach fell to her knees. She found her dagger and began to strip a piece of her cloak for bandages with it. As she did so, she watched in bewilderment as the world darkened around her. The fire still burned for she felt the heat from it but she could no longer see it. She tried to raise her hand to rub her eyes but it would not rise. The spirit within her made ready to take flight. "No more pain," it begged as it fluttered to be free. Mithlach closed her eyes.

 But a bright voice called out to her and she opened them again. She saw the concerned face of a fair elf before her.

 "Lindil?" she said weakly.

 "Yes," he said, "I have returned."

 He removed the remaining cords from her wrists and then wiped the blood from her face. She watched him do so indifferently.

 "My brother did not come, Lindil," she said hollowly, "I feel as though I have no brother."

 "I shall be as your brother," said Lindil, "From this day forth."

 "You?" said Mithlach, rubbing her wrists where the rope had left red bruises, "A brother who does not trust me?"

 Lindil took something out of the bag at his waist, secured to his belt. When he opened his hand he was holding a small delicate leaf twisted at the top to make it a pouch. Inside was an unusual sweet smelling paste. He took Mithlach's wrist and rubbed some of it on.

 "You have never trusted me," she continued, unaware that her fleeting strength was returning, "At times you were close to it but always you had those suspicions in your mind, hidden under your quest for the whole truth. Perhaps your instinct was right."

 She waited for him to answer but he continued with the balm on her other wrist and then her jaw. Mithlach looked in wonder at her wrist as the redness slowly but definitely faded. Lindil went on to her arm, washing away the blood with water from his flask and applying the paste.

 "It is difficult," he said finally, "To trust one who does not reveal anything about herself or her past."

 "What is it you wish to know?" she asked.

 "Who is your father?"

 "Did you not hear that…scum?"

 "He believes Sauron to have been your father, but I do not deem that it is so. Do you?"

 "At times," she replied,  "I do not know who he is. Only that he wed my mother in Dol Amroth but when she died…when I was born…he suddenly disappeared. Nobody knew much about him. Few saw him. I have only discovered that he met her in the misty mountains where she had escaped from orcs and brought her safely home."

 "Why then he cannot be your father," said Lindil, "For why would the Dark Lord rescue a mortal maiden from his own fell servants?"

 "But then who could he be?"

 "What else do you know of him?"

 "That is all, except for the legend of the Red Chamber. My grandparents told us, my brother and me, about it when we were children. My father left us nothing but that and…" she stopped and held up her hand where only a slim white line remained around her finger where her ring used to be, "and only that gem which Merin bound into a ring for me. Now I do not have even that."

 "Then let us retrieve it," said Lindil decisively. 

 "It is of no use," she replied dejectedly, shaking her head so that her curls tumbled about her face, obscuring it from Lindil's bright eyes.

 "I have not known you long, yet those words seem strange coming from your lips and in such a manner. Come."

 Mithlach sat very still and hid her face in her hands.

 "Come," ordered Lindil and stood up, "I shall not let you be like this. Stand like the strong and proud person I know you to be."

 "How can you know who I am when I do not know myself?" came the dismal reply.

 "Whoever you are, you are not evil. There is good in you that cannot be denied."

 She looked up finally but only to lean her head against the tree behind her and close her eyes.

 "The way you are sitting crouched down like that, anyone would mistake you for a hobbit," said Lindil in an altogether different tone of voice.

  Mithlach felt her lips curve into a weak, reluctant smile and a wave of relief swept over Lindil. She looked up at him with some of the spark back in her grey eyes.

 "Well we can't let that happen, can we?" she said.

 She stood up and suddenly realised how much her body ached. She closed her eyes in pain and felt a liquid forced onto her lips. She drank it gladly. Water it tasted like yet sweeter and more wholesome. Richer somehow though she could not explain how. Not only did her body feel refreshed but her spirits rose also and she was able to smile without effort.  

 "Do you feel better?" asked Lindil putting away his flask.

 "Yes. A great deal."

 She felt at her waist and clutched only at air. Looking down she realised her sword was missing and remembered that Ohtar had taken it with him. A fury arose within her. She felt so vulnerable without her sword but she would not let that make her any weaker. She'd kill him with her bare hands if she had to. Looking up she saw Lindil handing her his own sword.

 "Keep this for now if you wish, but I do not desire to see anyone killed."

 "Yes. His men are all innocent, only following orders and believing what he has told them. We must separate him from them somehow."

 "The only thing we shall be separating from that group is your sword and your ring."


	8. Prince Amrothos

Chapter 8

Ohtar's horse had crushed the undergrowth as it sped away and his path was clearly marked. Finding a stick to lean on Mithlach followed it with Lindil at her side. They were moving swiftly east when they came of a sudden to the river Celduin. Hoof prints were stamped into the mud beside the riverbank but they headed back into the forest.

 "We shall travel no more this night," said Lindil.

 "If we rest now we shall never find him," said Mithlach.

 "He is injured, Mithlach. He cannot get very far."

 "All the more reason to keep going."

 "You do not heal as quickly as you would have me believe. You are weary, I know. The fire in your heart has brought you this far but I deem it would not last for much further. We shall get back your ring, child. Do not fret. But first you must gather your strength."

 "You speak wisely."

 "Do I not always?"

 "No, my friend. Not always."

 Lindil smiled.

 "If you wish, I shall follow the tracks a little to see if Ohtar is anywhere close."

 "And what am I to do?"

 "You are to wash in the Celduin's waters and rest a while beside it. I shall go now. I shan't be long."

 So Lindil disappeared into the woods and Mithlach washed her face, arms and legs in the cool water as it glittered in the starlight. When Lindil returned he found her sitting by the riverside, her boots, gauntlets and jerkin, washed clean of blood, beside her. He gave her a cloak and clothing given to him by a wood elf for her. There was a party of them drawing near and they were about to settle down for a feast.

 "We are welcome to join them," said Lindil.

 "I am hungry yet sleep is dearer to me at this time," replied Mithlach, "But you must not hesitate to join them."

 Yet he did hesitate. He handed her some way bread and watched her thoughtfully as she ate it. Who knew what she would do if he left her. What if she decided to search for Ohtar herself or he found her himself? Seeing the concerned look in his eyes Mithlach smiled.

 "Thank you," she said, "Now why do you wait? I am quite safe here and Ohtar will not return. Do you see that tree yonder overlooking the river? I shall sleep hidden among its roots and nobody will see me."

 She reminded him also of the dagger and sword she had in her possession so at last Lindil left her to ponder over her grievances. Mithlach's sword arm ached horribly and her leg felt raw and stiff. As she changed out of her torn bloodstained clothes into the soft elf clothing her hand throbbed. She knew Lindil was right. Now that she had time to realise it she was wearier than she could admit. Ohtar would pay for what he had done but now she needed rest and the dreams that come with it. She kept her dagger close before finding a comfortable spot between two large roots to settle down. Huddled in the cloak, Mithlach lay down by the river and trailed her fingers over its fast moving surface trying to forget her pain and concentrating instead on the rushing water. How pleasant was its sound and how safe she felt beside it. Closing her eyes she fell into a deep slumber and images came unbidden to her mind. 

 She could see the forest but as if from a great height. Far below, just outside of it and to the south, was a cloaked rider looking up at the sky as two flames shot up into the starry dark above. A silver swan glittered at his throat, holding the black cloak about him. Now she could see the rider's face. Young and stern, his eyes of dark grey, the man shook his head and turned his grey horse around.

 "It cannot be," he whispered.

 "Come back," Mithlach heard herself say.

The man looked up and she followed his gaze to see the two flames suspended in the sky but now they fell slowly to the west where a soft light began to grow. The light grew ever brighter until it embraced the sky causing shadows to flee and hide in caves and under trees. Clouds passed quickly overhead in the now blue sky. Mithlach blinked and watched them pass in puzzlement. 

 "Lindil?" she said.

 "So you have awakened at last," replied the elf.

 "How long have I been asleep?"

 "Three days."

 Mithlach sat up in surprise and saw the lands swiftly pass by her. She looked up at Lindil who had an oar in his hand.

 "From where did you get this raft?" asked Mithlach.

 Lindil abandoned his oar for the moment and sat down to tell her. The elves he had supped with the night before had helped him build the raft and carry Mithlach into it. They had also provided them with supplies for the journey. Mithlach looked to her left and saw the forest while on her right tall mountains loomed, reaching for the sky.

 "But this is not the river running," said Mithlach.

 "No indeed. 'Tis the great river, Anduin. We carried you through Greenwood along the old forest road to reach it. Ahead of us the Silverlode joins the Anduin. A few boats of Lothlorien are harboured there. Perhaps they will lend us one."

 "How far do you wish to go by river?"

 "It is for you to decide."

 "Did you find no sign of Ohtar?"

 "I did not look for him. If he did not find the others he is now dead."

 Mithlach frowned and looked down at her hands. 

 "We shall decide what to do about your ring but first you must eat."

 So Mithlach rolled up her sleeves and complied while Lindil took up his oar to hurry them down the river. Having breakfasted, Mithlach stood up to slip on her jerkin and clasp her belt about her waist. As she did so Lindil noticed that not only had she rolled up her sleeves but her trousers too for the elvish garb was far too big for her and only served to make her appear smaller in stature than before. And with her dark curls about her head she looked so much like a Halfling that Lindil was moved to mirth. When Mithlach ventured to ask him what had made him laugh he only laughed more. So ignoring him, she picked up his sword and attempted to fit it into the sheath of the black sword with very little success. She returned the sword to Lindil amid a fresh burst of mirth which she joined when he was able to tell her the cause of it.

 Once she had bound a fresh bandage around her wounded hand Mithlach wore her gauntlets and took up an oar to row.

 "The knights will not cross the river until they reach the bridge of Osgiliath," said Mithlach, "However, the falls of Rauros prevent us from following the river as far."

 "Do you plan to meet them at Osgiliath or Dol Amroth?"

 "Osgiliath would be my preference but I doubt I shall reach there as they do. Once we lose the raft we shall need horses to keep up with them."

 "Then we proceed to Rohan?"

 "To Rohan."

 As they approached the harbour of Lothlorien Mithlach tied back her curls and drew her hood over her head. A moment later an elf appeared on the bank peering at them curiously. Lindil smiled at the sight of him and hailed him with an elvish greeting to which the elf replied. Lindil tossed him a rope to draw them in and then stepped onto the bank. As Mithlach pulled on her boots and unloaded the raft, the elf spoke to Lindil in his own tongue.

 "I am Engwahith. It is seldom we see travellers on this river. What brings you here and who is your companion?"

 "I am Lindil of Rivendell. I seek to reach Rohan with my friend here who is a ranger. We travel by raft for it is the swiftest way; however the raft is not as steady or swift as a boat. Though it was fashioned by elves of King Thranduil's realm it was made in haste and may not last us our journey."

"Lindil? A name I have heard before from my friend Nuincú. Are you not betrothed to Nimril of Lothlorien, his sister?"

 "Indeed I am."

 "Should you not then be with her in the undying lands?"

 "There is something I must do first. The sooner I get to Rohan, the sooner I can return to Nimril."

 "So you desire from us a boat. You may have it for we no longer have use for them all. Take whichever suits you best and may the Valar look kindly upon you on your journey."

 Lindil related to Mithlach all that had been said and she turned to Engwahith to thank him for his kindness. But after she spoke, Engwahith did not reply but spoke instead to Lindil in elvish.

 "I know not the tongue of men," he said, "What has been said to me?"

 Lindil told him and he smiled at Mithlach then spoke again to Lindil.

 "You are most welcome though it seems odd to me for a fellow elf to be concerned in the lives of mortals when he should be sailing across the seas with his kin. But I shall not speak of it."

 "And yet you have spoken a great deal already, Engwahith," smiled Lindil, "This ranger is my friend and I would not be of my kindred were I inclined to abandon my friends."

 "You need not explain yourself to me, Lindil."

 "No indeed."

 "What did he say?" asked Mithlach.

 "That we are most welcome."

 "And after that?"

 "'Tis of no consequence."

 "Ah. I see you have learnt from me the art of keeping secrets. That boat you are looking at is not at all suitable. We require something lighter like this."

 As they debated over the finer points of the boats in question Mithlach saw a sadness lurking behind Lindil's bright eyes. Being in these lands again the memory of Nimril bestirred an ache in his heart, for Lothlorien was where he had first witnessed her shimmering beauty. Under golden leaved branches she had danced like moonlight upon the sea as he sang for her.

 "Lindil," Mithlach's thoughtful voice broke in upon his thoughts, "Is there no way for you to send word to Nimril?"

 "I would have sent word much sooner had there been a way."

 "Did Engwahith not tell you that her brother was here? Perhaps he could take a message to her."

 The elf's face brightened and he turned to Engwahith and asked him of Nuincú. Twas not long before Nuincú came and met Lindil with the joy of meeting an old friend. Mithlach stood back and loaded the boat while Lindil spoke to him. When she was finished she sat down to watch with a smile as Lindil's lurking worry was washed from his eyes with merry laughter and gentle talk in a beautiful tongue which Mithlach could not understand but would forever remember.

At last, as the shadows lengthened, Nuincú left and Lindil came to speak to Mithlach as she sat carving something from a piece of wood with her dagger.

 "Nuincú is departing for the Grey Havens immediately," he told her.

 "I am glad to hear it."

 "I have heard from him something that will gladden you far more."

 "Indeed?"

 "There are men camped near the remains of Dol Goldur." 

 "Then I may get back my sword and ring! Come."

 "We must not be hasty, Mithlach. It would be best for me to go to the camp and discover what Ohtar has told the others, if he is in fact with them. Only Melfalas would recognise me but he knows that I was not with you when you met Ohtar. Then we shall see about your stolen possessions."

 "Then I do nothing?" asked Mithlach in considerable disappointment.

 "Yes child, I'm afraid so."

A kingly horse of grey found its way to the knights' camp bearing a rider in black. As the rider dismounted, Melfalas saw him and hurriedly went to speak to him.

 "Prince Amrothos!" he cried.

 "Yes Melfalas. I am well enough at last to lead you all but it seems I have come too late."

 The prince removed his hood and looked at Melfalas with his sorrow filled dark grey eyes and Melfalas bowed his head.

 "I am sorry, your majesty. It should not have ended like this."

 "I know not yet that it has ended as badly as it seems. I must know if the one you found, the one who is dead is in fact the one I sent you to search for. Tell me all."

 Amrothos took a seat by a fire. The light of the flames flickered over his handsome face as he listened to all Melfalas had to tell him about 'Ohtarwen'. Melfalas had not spoken for long before Amrothos interrupted him.

 "A maiden defeated you in swordplay?" he said.

 "Yes, my lord and I am not ashamed to admit it for such skill with the sword I never did see before. She knocked the sword clean from my hand."

 "Show me."

 "I cannot for I know not how she did it."

 "Draw your sword," said Amrothos and stood up, drawing his own.

 Most of the knight's had taken to their tents but a few saw them standing there in the light of the fire with their swords out and drew closer to watch.

 "Grip it tightly," said Amrothos.

 With a deft flick of the wrist he tackled Melfalas's sword and it fell from his hand.

 "How did you know she did it thus?" asked Melfalas, "Did you teach her it?"

 "No," he replied with a grim smile, "She taught me. Now, what does Ohtar say happened when you left them?"

 They put back their swords and sat down again.

 "He said they were attacked by dwarves."

"Dwarves?" exclaimed Lindil, "That is absurd."

"But 'tis True."

 Having made his way to the camp Lindil was hailed by the knights and when they heard that he was of Rivendell they urged him to heal their captain for he was in great pain. They showed him into a tent where Ohtar lay face down moaning. A man was tending him with a frown but when he saw Lindil his brow cleared. 

 "Have you come to help him?" he asked.

 Lindil looked from one man to the other and then at Ohtar.

 "Yes," he said.

 "How does he fare, Nevsoron?"

 "Not well, Belegore, not well at all."

 "Look," Belegore told Lindil, "There is the axe the dwarves struck him with. Probably the same axe they used to kill the maiden."

 Lindil saw not just the axe but also Mithlach's bag and beside it, wrapped in a cloak, was what appeared to be her sword. But of the ring there was no sign.

 "I shall do all that I can," said Lindil, "But I must be left alone."

 "Yes, of course."

 With that the men left him alone as he had desired and waited anxiously outside. Quickly, Lindil picked up the axe and put it inside Mithlach's bag. Opening up the bundled cloak he found Mithlach's sword. He tied the bag to the hilt of the sword and opened the rear flap of the tent. It opened into the forest and he could almost see the boat from where he stood. Aiming the sword like a spear he let it fly swift and true and its point struck the ground near the river. He stood looking out of the flap undecided. Should he leave Ohtar to die for all that he had done or should he heal him. A sudden cry of pain from Ohtar decided the matter for him. He stayed and got to work on the deep gash in Ohtar's back. He ventured to ask him of the ring but Ohtar would not tell him aught.

"We found this clasped in our captain's hand," Melfalas told the prince.

 He placed into Amrothos' hand a ring with a red gem and black band. Amrothos grit his teeth at the sight of it.

 "Then she is indeed dead," he said hollowly, "For she would not part with this for anything in middle-earth."

 He stared into the gem, lost in thoughts and memories until Melfalas ventured to ask if he would camp with them. Amrothos slipped the ring onto his little finger and stood.

 "Nay," he said, "There is no need for me to remain here. I return to Dol Amroth for my father needs me there. Those of you who wish to come with me may do so but a dozen or so must stay here till Ohtar is fit and well again."

 "I shall tell the men."

 "Thank you, but first direct me to Ohtar's tent. I desire a few words with him."

 "It is straight ahead. I do not know how many will stay but I for one will come with you, my lord."

 "I shall be glad of your company."

 "One more thing. However the maiden's death came to pass, I doubt very much that she was slain by dwarves. For the dwarves of Erebor looked upon her in some respect and a few with affection even. There is no sense in them slaying her for even had they wanted to slay her why would they wait for her to leave before they did so? It makes no sense at all."

 "What does Ohtar say of this?"

 "I have not spoken to him of it."

 The prince frowned and made his way to Ohtar's tent where Belegore and Nevsoron stood outside still waiting for Lindil to finish. 

 "Why do you stand here?" asked Amrothos, "Who tends your poor captain."

 "An elf, your majesty."

 Amrothos entered the tent and saw the elf washing his hands in a basin. Lindil turned as the he entered and saw immediately the glowing ring on his finger but made no sign that he had noticed it at all. He recognised the man as the youngest son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. It was clear at first glance that he had elvish blood in his veins and Lindil could not but feel a deep respect for him. He was a young man but the hard set of his jaw and the seriousness of his gaze made him appear as if he had borne an age of pain and overcome it. Yet deep within his dark eyes was a sorrow and ache for those he had lost. It was not immediately apparent but once it was glimpsed one could not bear to hold his gaze. For all that, there was still a twinkle in his eye though it seemed as though it had been a long time since he had cause to be merry.   

 "Will he live?" asked Amrothos looking at the inanimate man before him with a worried frown.

 "Yes."

 "Do you believe dwarves attacked him?"

 "No."

 "No?"

 "Dwarves would never commit such an act."

 "An elf who defends dwarves? A very strange thing indeed yet as you are of the wisest race I cannot but trust your judgement. Do you have any idea as to how he came to be wounded thus?"

 "I could not say. When he awakens fully perhaps you can ask him."

 "And when will he awaken?"

 "Not for quite some time, I deem."

 "Then I shall most probably not be here to ask him aught for I leave in a few moments."

 "For Dol Amroth?"

 "Yes."

 "I must leave also. Fare thee well."

 "Farewell then. I thank you for what you have done for Ohtar and I shall never forget it."

 "May we meet again in better circumstances," said Lindil.  

 "May we indeed, master elf."

 Lindil said a quick farewell to the grateful knights outside and hurried back to the boat. Before long they would discover the loss of the axe and perhaps the sword and bag too. He had to make haste for if he was far enough away they would never find him. His light feet left little or no imprint on the ground and he made no sound as he ran. 

Finally he got to the boat but it was empty. Mithlach was gone and though her bag was in the boat her sword was gone as well. 

 "Confounded mortals," muttered the elf.


	9. Evil awakens

Chapter 9

 "Amrothos?"

 The prince turned as he was about to leave Ohtar's tent and saw him staring at him. He quickly went to him and took his hand. He was surprised to see him awake when just a moment ago Lindil had told him he would not wake for a long time.

 "Yes, I'm here."

 "I must tell you… what happened," gasped Ohtar, "The maiden was not killed by dwarves."

 "What?"

 "'Twas the maiden… who attacked me."

 "Without cause?"

 "She's a fell creature, a sorceress," declared Ohtar, taking his hand from the prince's hold and attempting to push himself up, "Who knows for what foul reason she does anything."  

 "Does?" repeated Amrothos, "She lives?"

 Ohtar fell suddenly face down and spoke weakly into his pillow. 

 "She must be dead by now."

 "Curse you, Ohtar! Why do you speak in circles. Is she alive or dead? What has occurred?"

 Amrothos turned Ohtar onto his back and held him by the shoulders. Ohtar's face contorted in pain before he opened his eyes and finally spoke.

 "I defended myself."

 Amrothos was silent. He let the man go and stepped back. Eyeing Ohtar suspiciously he spoke in a dangerously quiet tone, containing whatever emotions were rising within him.

 "I sent you to find her and bring her safely home, Ohtar. What did you do to her?"

 "She was evil..."

 "What did you do?" he said louder.

 "I fought her."

 "Where is she hurt?"

 "I stabbed her arm and her leg. Her hands..."

 Amrothos looked at his own hands, shaking with anger, the ring glowing on his little finger. The ring stained with blood from when Ohtar had cut Mithlach's hand to get it.

 "Is she alive?" he asked gritting his teeth.

 "It has been three days. She could not have survived her wounds so long. She was close to death when I left her."

 "I do now know what to do with you," said Amrothos, looking at the pitiful pale form of Ohtar as he lay trembling under a blanket.

 Amrothos drew his sword.

 "How I desire to run you through right now as you lie. How I would love to choke the life out of your foul self. You've killed her Ohtar. How could you kill her?"

 "She's..."

 "I know what you think she is. How many years has my father told you all to stop this foolish cruelty. She is no more a sorcerer than you are and she is by far less fell. Is it not time she was home where she belongs? She is..." he paused and closed his eyes, "She was as good a friend to me as her brother. Now she is just another friend I have lost. One you have taken away from me."

 Amrothos opened his eyes and glared at Ohtar. His sword glinted threateningly.

 "Forgive me, my lord. What will you do to me?"

 "You shall go the way of all murderers. You will return to Dol Amroth to be judged by my father as soon as you are well enough to travel."

 Only his sense of honour and respect of mortal life stayed the prince's hand. He could not kill a man who was not well enough to defend himself. He cursed the fates for bringing Ohtar to him in such a condition then called for Belegore and Nevsoron.

 "Keep guard over this man. Do not let him out of your sight."

 So saying Amrothos left the tent and called the men to gather around him. 

 "You all must know that Ohtar is no longer your captain. Henceforth he is your prisoner. As soon as he is able I want him brought to Dol Amroth to be judged for his crime."

 "What crime do you speak of, my lord?" 

 "A crime most heinous, dear Himathrad. The crime of taking the life of another. I know not how many of you are of like mind with Ohtar concerning the maiden you were sent to find. Let me assure you that she was neither a sorcerer nor a fell spirit. She was noble, brave and spirited. But for Ohtar she would also be happy and safe but that was not to be. For it is her life he took, nay, stole."

 There was a brief shocked silence. Many of the knights bowed their heads in respect, removing their helms while others looked at each other in disbelief.

 "Those of you who wish to return to Dol Amroth now with me may do so," continued Amrothos, "Those of you who have decided to stay must keep a strict guard over the prisoner. If he does not return to Dol Amroth my father shall not be pleased," his voice grew quieter as if he was speaking his thoughts to himself, "Alas how am I to tell him. He will take it very badly indeed. May Himthol forgive me for failing at this one thing he has ever asked of me. That one of our own men...'Tis of no consequence. Melfalas, I'm afraid you cannot come with me for I need you here to act as captain after Ohtar."

 "Yes, my lord," replied Melfalas.

 "Gather your things quickly men. We leave immediately."

 Lindil wandered through the forest looking in trees, hoping to see Mithlach perched among the branches. It was not long before he saw her walking towards him with sword in hand. She seemed strangely pleased, her eyes sparkled and the weariness had left her face. 

 "What devilry have you been planning?" asked Lindil when she reached him.

 "It is not me planning the devilry. Let me explain later. First I wish to hear why it took you so long to return."

 "The knights asked me to heal Ohtar. I took the opportunity to get back your things but your ring is in possession of the prince."

 "Prince?"

 "Amrothos."

 "He was there? Is he there still?"

 "No, he has left for Dol Amroth."

 "Alas, had I but known he would be there I would have gone with you. Perhaps even now I could have been on my way home. Tell me what Ohtar said to him."

 "Ohtar did not speak to him but he told the others that you were set upon by dwarves who slew you. I assured the prince that it could not have occurred thus."

 "You told him I was alive?"

 "Nay."

 "Why not?"

 "How was I to know that he knew you and that he would not think you evil as Ohtar did."

 "Did I never tell you he is my brother's dearest friend?"

 "Never," replied Lindil, "See the trouble that occurs from keeping secrets."

 "Himthol must have asked him to send the knights. Now I understand why the knights were searching for me yet were not led by Himthol himself. Perhaps he is hurt and could not come himself. All the more reason for me to return home swiftly. But first, how many men are at the camp?"

 "As I left I saw men packing things away. I deem some may have gone with the Prince. One moment."

 Lindil quickly sprung up into a tree and climbed onto its topmost branches to see into the distance. He saw the camp and its men and further than that were many riders led by Amrothos heading south.

 "I deem there to be two dozen men still camped," said Lindil dropping gracefully from the tree, "Why is it you ask?"

 "Now it is my turn to explain. Some time after you left me at the boat I saw my sword flying through the trees and land close by. As I untied my bag from the hilt of my sword I heard voices in the distance. So I made my way to the ruins of Dol Goldur and saw there many strange creatures huddled together speaking in harsh voices. I climbed a tree to get a better view and hear more clearly what was said.

 "'Why are we still here? We cannot survive on squirrels and vermin.' said one.

 "'I agree with Gorwúrz,' said another, 'I want the taste of man's-flesh in my mouth again.'

 "'Saruman has been defeated. Soon we shall be too.'

 "'Be silent Gorwúrz, Skaitakh. Do I sense a mutiny among the ranks?' asked the leader of these foul creatures, 'Púshtakh does not stand for disobedience. You'll have your man's-flesh. Can you not smell it in the air? Men are nigh. A tasty treat for us all if we plan carefully. Gutklâsh, go and find out how many of them there are. We'll surround them later tonight when many of them are at rest. They will be quite unprepared when we move in for the kill.'

 "With that a rotten sneer spread across his face and the others set up a chant for Púshtakh the Strongclaw for that is his name.

 "Now I must go and warn the men."

 "Ohtar is still there," said Lindil.

 "But is he not dying?"

 "No," he replied looking away from her.

 "You said the knights asked you to heal him," she said and her eyes narrowed, "Did you?"

 "How could I not?"

 "How could you after what he has done?"

 "He was in much pain."

 "So was I after what he did to me!"

 "This is beside the point. You cannot go to the camp. What will the knights think when they see you alive after Ohtar has told them you are dead?"

 "They will know he lied."

 "Nay, Mithlach. They will more likely think you an evil spirit."

 "Then they shan't recognise me. I'll wear a mask."

 "Your sword will be easily recognised by Ohtar and Melfalas. I shall go to warn them. You must stay here."

 "Have you been with me so long and yet not realised I am not the weak maiden I may appear to be?"

 "I do not doubt your strength."

 "Then do not doubt my sense. I am going to the camp whether you agree with me or not."

 "No, for I doubt your sense very strongly. Why take the risk when you do not need to?"

 "They are few, Lindil. They need my help. I am a ranger, this is what I do. You cannot expect me to sit here in hiding while you and the men fight off the Uruk-hai. I have been idle for too long."

 "How many times must I see you get hurt and have to heal you?"

 "I never asked you to heal me. I never asked you to come with me at all."

 "And what would have happened had I not come with you? You would not be here to quarrel with me now."

 "I'm sure you would be quite happy. Now I must leave. I do not have time for this nonsense. No one tells me what I can and cannot do!"

 With that, Mithlach made for the boat to get her bag and ran into the shadows towards the camp. Lindil did not follow.


	10. The battle of Dol Guldur

Chapter 10

Mithlhach opened her bag and rummaged through it as she walked. She was pleased to see that the dwarven axe was in the bag though it would have to stay hidden. Finally she found what she was looking for, a mask given to her by a ranger of Ithilien when she had once journeyed south. The mask would conceal a great deal of her face but her black sword was still a problem.

She hoped Melfalas and Ohtar had left with Amrothos but as she approached the camp she discovered to her annoyance that not only was Melfalas still there but he seemed to be in charge.

Drawing the large elven cloak about her and pulling her hood to shadow her face she approached Melfalas with her back to the fire so that all he saw of her was her eyes glittering from behind the mask. For even the lower part of her face, left unconcealed by the mask, was not visible in the darkness. 

"Do you lead these men?" she asked, altering her voice.

"I do indeed," he replied, "And who might you be?"

She paused for a brief moment.

"A ranger of these parts by the name of Mithlhach. You must rouse your men. There are orcs nigh and they plan an attack on your camp."

"Orcs here?"

"Uruk-hai from Isengard. They are hidden at what remains of Dol Guldur but they will be upon you soon, make haste and be silent. They must not know that you have been warned."

Spurred by the urgent tone of her voice, Melfalas awakened the men and all but Nevsoron and Belegore, who guarded Ohtar, stood before him in ranks, hastily gathering their armour.

"There can't be much more than a dozen men here," said Mithlhach in dismay.

"There are seventeen," said Melfalas, "Why, how many orcs are there?"

"Three dozen at least and taller than other orcs."

It was on the tip of her tongue to add "and hungry for meat" but Melfalas looked too alarmed already.

"If you plan wisely their defeat will come easily," she reassured him, "And you have all the help I can give you. They plan to surround you. Maybe it would be best if there was no one here to surround."

Melfalas looked towards the trees nearby. Dol Guldur was to the west of them so the orcs would not pass any of the trees to the east. The knights could hide among the eastern trees with their horses and wait for the orcs to surround the camp before advancing on them from the shadows. For when a fire burned at the centre of the camp those outside the circle of light were not very visible, explained Melfalas.

"The moonlight may betray us," he said.

He looked up at the sky and saw to his surprise that a strong wind was starting and dark clouds passed by the moon.

"Praise the Valar," said Mithlhach, "Now continue, what do you plan."

Melfalas turned to his men and ordered the archers to step forward. There were only seven but he decided they would have to suffice. They would be the first to attack from the centre of the forest as soon as all the orcs were gathered at the camp. The rest of the men were split into two groups of ten. One group would be to the far east on horses, ready to attack the orcs from the east while the other would stay as close to the orcs path as possible and follow them out of the forest from a safe distance. This group would march swiftly north towards Dol Guldur and wait for the orcs to pass out of the woods. The only problem was keeping the orcs from turning east and starting the battle too soon.

"Leave that to me," said Mithlhach, "They shan't turn east."

Mithlhach ran into the forest while the knights took their places. She saw Belegore and Nevsoron carry Ohtar deep into the forest towards the east, safely out of harm's way. It seemed there was no time for revenge.

When the archers entered the forest they saw Mithlhach getting ready her own small bow and arrow. Suddenly they saw something glimmering in-between the trees like a shiny veil between them and the path they wanted the Uruk-hai to take. Soon, the western group of knights came with helms upon their heads, shields on their arms and swords or spears in their hands. They too saw the veil and stopped in fear.

"Giant spider webs?" said Himathrad, "Must we deal with spider beasts as well as Uruk-hai?"

"No," said Mithlhach, "The webs may be large but the spiders who spun them are quite small and harmless. The Uruk-hai will think as you did and my hope is that they won't turn east for fear of the spiders. Now hurry and be silent."

She walked with them as they wound their horses carefully through the woods. When she thought they had come far enough she told them to stop but went on herself. Soon she could hear Uruk-hai stamping towards her and quickly climbed into a tree. From above she saw them pass by and heard them remark of the webs. As she had thought, they did not dare go near them. A few orcs straggled behind and she shot them swiftly. The others did not notice so she followed them, shooting those who lagged behind, hoping to reduce their numbers at least by a few. But she did not shoot too many for fear they would realise their loss and turn back. She had missed many times and her arrows lay on the path behind the orcs. If they turned back they'd find her arrows and may try to find her. Worse still, they would be more on there guard and may discover the trap set for them. They were almost past the hidden knights when she saw an orc turn to see where his companion had gone. He was lying dead some way behind. 

"Oy Skaitakh. Look!" he snarled, "What do you think happened to him?"

"Spiders?" said Mithlhach gruffly, trying to mimic the orc.

"Yeah, that'd be it," said Shaitakh, thinking that the other orc had spoken, "Spiders."

"The sooner we get out of these woods the better."

"Hurry then," said Shaitakh and Mithlhach was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

She dropped out of the tree and collected her arrows before hurrying south.

The orcs led by Púshtakh crept out from under the shadows and made their way to the camp. They saw no men about and assumed they were all in their tents. 

"Fools," said Skaitakh, "They think they are safe and keep no watch."

"We'll show them," muttered Gutklâsh.

*******

When Mithlhach left him, Lindil turned north angrily and sped through the forest. Now he understood why elves did not concern themselves in the lives of mortals. She knew how foolish she was being yet she ignored his friendly counsel. 

"Lindil!"

He heard a pleasant voice hail him and saw an elf walk towards him with a smile.

"It is a surprise to see you again though not an unpleasant one. How come you to be still wandering our wood? Has the maiden found her people?"

Lindil said nothing and sat down on a fallen branch. The elf sat down beside him.

"I see you have a lot to say," said the elf, "If you could only bring yourself to utter a word."

"There are far too many words in my mind to utter, dear Brethildur."

"Then first answer my questions."

So Lindil proceeded to do so though he hid much from Brethildur. He told all that had happened but with no mention of the ring or what Mithlhach had told him. Brethildur was no fool and knew that Lindil was not telling him all but he let him keep his secrets and did not question him too closely regarding the events. When Lindil spoke of the Uruk-hai Brethildur leapt to his feet.

"Then what are we doing here?" he said, "We should also be slaying those foul creatures. Come, first we shall find some of my brethren to join us, but we must do so quickly."

"My wisdom has perhaps escaped me for the moment for that thought should have earlier occurred to me," replied Lindil.

*******

When Mithlhach finally reached where the archers were they were already shooting at the orcs and she saw Ohtar leading a line of knights around the orcs from the east. The moon had been shrouded in clouds before but now it shone down on the scene before her.

When the orcs tried to beat a retreat another line of knights rode out of the forest blocking their way and killing them with spears. The archers kept up their attack and she realised she would be of better use on the battlefield than with the archers for her aim was lacking. So she handed all her arrows to the archers standing with her and ran to the battlefield. A few knights had got off their horses and were fighting on the ground. Mithlhach joined them and let her black sword loose. Now she fought freely and without the restraint she had felt when fighting Ohtar. He was not an orc though he behaved like one and she could not bring herself to fight him as she was fighting now, swiftly slashing through orc after orc. She feared that Melfalas would see her sword and recognise her fighting but she had not time even to see where he was and hoped he too was so busy fighting that he could not look towards her. 

She had to hold her sword high for the fell beasts towered above her in their gross ugliness. She twisted herself out of the way of foul blades and deftly cut off the arms holding them before stabbing the creatures through. To her horror the Uruk-hai seemed not to notice the loss of their limbs let alone feel any pain from it. Mithlhach decided to be swifter in running them through rather than defending herself and found that she was killing far more than before. The Uruk-hai around her lessened and she was able to cast a swift glance over those fighting near her. She found that Melfalas was fighting quite far from her and was too engrossed in the battle to look at anyone but those he fought. The archers had done a good job but there were still many orcs to fight and they did not seem to get weary.

*******

Brethildur found, after some time, a group of his brethren but when the matter was explained to them they at first thought it was a jest. When they were finally convinced that it was the truth they had to be convinced that they were needed. They would be travelling west soon and were weary of battle. Lindil continued, impatiently, persuading them to join him.

Finally, most of them took up arms and followed Lindil back to the camp. Lindil and Brethildur had travelled far to find the other elves and though they were swift, Lindil feared that they would not get back in time.

*******

Mithlhach saw Melfalas heading her way so she wiped her sword on her cloak, put it back in its sheath and took out her dagger to fight with in its stead. There were not many orcs near her and as Melfalas came towards her he killed the few who remained before dismounting and leading his horse with him. Mithlhach gathered her cloak about her as he drew close and waited.

"You fight well, young ranger," he said.

"Thank you."

"I could not help noticing your remarkable sword. From whence did it come?"

"I found it in the forest a few days ago."

"Indeed," he replied.

"Yes. Now you seem to have the battle well in hand so I had best be on my way," she turned around and started to walk away, "Farewell."

"Wait!"

Mithlhach's heart stopped and she turned around.

"It seems you have a long journey ahead of you," he said, "Take my horse."

"Do you not need it?"

"Your need outweighs mine."

"How can you know that?"

Melfalas looked about them unobtrusively. Since the remaining orcs were not nigh he saw that the other knights were busy fighting them off at some distance; yet a few men still lingered nearby. He came towards Mithlhach and lowered his head close to hers. Instinctively her hand went to the hilt of her sword.

"Be silent," he whispered, "Do not speak to anyone. Just take the horse and leave as secretly as you appeared."

As he moved away he felt her piercing gaze upon him.

"Yes," he said, "Look at me. Know that I mean you no harm."

His horse had wandered off as he stood with Mithlhach. He made a clicking sound with his tongue and his horse came back and stood beside him, tossing its head. He took the reigns and placed them in Mithlhach's hands. She looked at them and back at his face in the moonlight. She tried to thank him but the words caught in her throat so instead she clasped his hand. He was surprised by this gesture but before he could decide whether or not he approved of it she had let go. When she removed the mask from her face he thought he saw a tear glistening on her cheek though in the darkness he could not be sure. Mithlhach could not stop the smile forming on her lips. Her heart felt at peace, for at last one of her own people accepted her and she knew her journey home would not be one ending in the shattering of her hopes.

"You are a good friend to him," she whispered.

"I could be no less," he said and she saw him smile for the first time, "Fare thee well."

"Farewell, Melfalas."

So saying she moved towards the horse but it moved away from her and when she reached a hand to soothe it the horse jerked away pulling the reigns from her hands. She looked at Melfalas with the smile gone from her lips and a flickering hurt in her eyes. Acceptance seemed nigh impossible now. Even a horse of her lands rejected her. 

"I was never very good with horses," she lied.

"She is not very good with strangers," he replied but she thought she saw a faint suspicion in his eyes and her own eyes hardened.

It seemed like a sign that however close she got to anyone she would not be wholly trusted. Without a word Mithlhach turned around and headed for the trees. She quickly slipped into the shadows and was gone.

*******

Lindil and the other elves finally came into the open and saw a great smoke rising in the air. A fire burned strongly at the centre of the camp and about it blood and entrails were strewn about. Lindil 's horror-filled eyes scanned over the dead bodies looking for a sign of Mithlhach.

"We have come too late," said Brethildur.


	11. Ropes and a boat

Chapter 11

"Too late," said Brethildur, "The battle is all over."

"We weren't needed after all," said another elf, "But we may as well see if they need help with the wounded."

Lindil gave up looking for Mithlhach among the dead when he realised all the corpses were orcs. He had never seen orcs like these before. Several knights were busy heaving the Uruk-hai bodies onto the fire while the rest were busy in tents tending the wounded. Lindil saw Melfalas and hailed him.

"Lindil, is it not?" said Melfalas.

"Yes," replied the elf, "What has occurred here?"

"Uruk-hai came upon us. Fortunately, we were warned by a ranger beforehand or this would have ended very differently. The ranger left some time ago before any had a chance to show their gratitude."

Lindil knew not what to do. So he decided to go back to the boat and decide what to do from there. Bidding Brethildur and the rest farewell he hurried northwest. As he neared the boat he heard a strange scraping sound. Then he saw the cause of it. Mithlhach was sitting in the boat, carving away at something with her dagger. Every now and again she'd take a bite from some bread before carving again as she chewed. She seemed to sense that he was coming for she looked up and put away the piece of wood.

"I looked for you on the battlefield," said Lindil, "Why did you leave it so soon?"

"Melfalas thought it prudent for me to go and as the battle was drawing to an end I was no longer of use there."

"So you followed his counsel. Why did you not follow mine?"

"Counsel is given as a suggested course of action, not as an order."

"Yes, perhaps you are right. I did not mean to order you"

"How did the men fare after I left?"

"Very well indeed. No man has fallen though some were injured."

Mithlhach nodded and looked down the river before looking back at Lindil.

"I still wish to proceed to Rohan by boat as I had planned," she said, "Do you come with me?"

"Yes. I still have many things to ask you."

"Is that reason enough to stay? Why do you really stay, Lindil? Why do you delay your departure to the havens when you so much desire to be with Nimril and your kin?"

Lindil sat beside her in the boat and looked up at the fading stars as day crept into the sky. He seemed to be pondering the question within himself and Mithlhach waited patiently for him to speak. She had almost closed her eyes to sleep when she heard his voice.

"I am not yet ready to leave middle-earth," he said. 

"What do you mean? Do not all elves feel weary of the world now?"

"I have heard others speak of their weariness but my heart has not had its fill of these lands. The forests, the rivers, the mountains…I have not the heart to leave them just yet.

"The world ever changes and I have seen it grow but I wish to see it grow further. On my travels with you I have seen and experienced things I would never have known otherwise. I desire to see more.

"I love these lands dearly however, it is seemingly unnatural for me to feel so attached to them. My home is said to be over the seas but I do not desire to see it. Not yet. I do not know what to do."

"Then stay as long as your heart desires, though I deem, the nearer to the sea you become the less you will desire to stay. 

"Perhaps there is a reason why you do not wish to leave that is beyond the comprehension of us both. A larger design that we shall not see complete until the end."

"When is the end?"

"We shall know when it comes."

"You could just as easily have said that you did not know."

Mithlhach smiled.

"True, I do not know when the end will be. I am just thankful of whatever brought you on this journey with me and bids you to stay a while. Now you must forgive me for not waiting to hear your questions but I can hardly keep open my eyes."

"They can wait."

"Good. Then while I sleep, take us down the river and wake me when we reach Rohan."

"Is that an order?"

Mithlhach laughed and settled down to sleep, curled up in the boat.

"Well, it is not counsel," she said making Lindil laugh.

When Mithlhach awoke they were swiftly making their way down the river with the Wold on their right and the brown lands on their left. She yawned and partook of a quick breakfast as Lindil kept glancing at her and she knew he had much to ask. She had hardly taken her last bite when he spoke.

"Are you ready for my questions?" he asked.

Mithlhach took a final gulp of water, settled down comfortably to row and nodded.

"Do you remember the dragon in the misty mountains?"

"Lovely, was it not?"

"Yes indeed," said Lindil, not allowing himself to be sidetracked by mirth, "I went back to the cave while you slept and the dragon was gone."

"That is bizzare but I had naught to do with it. I did indeed slay the dragon and I assure you that it was quite dead, but other fell beasts inhabit those mountains aside from orcs and decrepit dragons. Perhaps he made a tasty meal for one of them."

"And what of the spiders?"

"Ah, so you no longer believe them to be my fell minions?"

Lindil laughed.

"Minions perhaps, but not so fell," he said.

Mithlhach stopped rowing and leant back with her brow furrowed as if she were trying to see something in the far distance.

"It was when I left Bree," she said, "I met an old man, dressed all in brown. He had an uncanny skill of conversing with animals."

"Radagast the Brown?"

"I do not recall his name though that seems to be correct. I thought it would help me were I to acquire his skills but as a pupil I was not very successful. The only language I mastered was that of spiders which is perhaps the simplest of them. Yet I am glad of it for it has held me in good stead ever since. They were extremely useful when I passed through midgewater."

She had another drink of water, as did Lindil, before starting to row again.

"I know what your next question is," she said presently, "You wish to know of Ohtar."

"Yes. How do you know him?"

"He is a comrade of my brother and Amrothos. I have known him since I was a child. He once accused me of sorcery when we were very young and my brother took him to task for it. After that he never said anything like that again, in fact he was as sweet as honey. It was his over familiarity that made me steer clear of him. He was no friend of mine yet he tried to become my confidant. Well, now we know what path his intentions took and we need not speak of him anymore."

They rowed on in silence, looking towards the west as the vast meads of Rohan came into view. Lindil saw the Entwash in the distance and further than that, Edoras, where King Eomer sat upon his throne. They let the boat climb the bank a little before they got out of it and ate a little by the riverside.

"Do you see any horses or Rohirrim?" asked Mithlhach.

"Yes, though they are very far. We shall have a long way to walk. It would take a great many days and even were we to acquire horses we would have a long ride to Minas Tirith."

"Then perhaps we should continue down the river to Minas Tirith?"

"And what of the Falls? No doubt you will survive the great drop."

He was jesting yet he sounded unsure.

"No doubt," replied Mithlhach getting back into the boat, "I am sure as an elf you will not suffer much hurt. None that will not be healed...in time."

She looked up at him expectantly so he stepped into the boat and sat down apprehensively. 

"You mean to go over the falls," he said slowly.

Mithlhach nodded and pushed the boat back into the midst of the current with her oar. 

"Come along." she said, "Take up your oar, we must hurry if we want any chance of survival."

"Do we even _have _a chance of survival?"

"We shall find out."

Soon, great towers of rock loomed on either side of them, closing them off from the outside world. Closing them off from life, thought Lindil. 'Twas a long way to the falls yet the sense of impending doom rushed at him with the air as it passed them swiftly by. Mithlhach could not see it but he could; the start of the falls where the flow of water stopped abruptly and seemingly disappeared as it fell away far far onto the rocks below. As the day drew on a mist filled the air and the roar of the falls became by far more thunderous though still distant.

It was nightfall when they passed the argonath, glowing in the moonlight, and Mithlhach had them bank on the right for a rest.

"So you wait for morning to leap from the falls?" said Lindil.

"Surely you did not truly believe that I meant us to go over Rauros," chuckled Mithlhach, "I would not so risk the life of my new-found brother."

Lindil laughed too and not without relief.

"We won't go over the falls but around them," said Mithlhach.

"You mean over the mountains?"

"Yes. Then once we reach the other side and pass the falls we can continue our journey down the river."

"Are we to carry the boat with us all the way?"

"It sounds ridiculous but fear not, for I have a plan and for now my only worry is for my sleep."

"Rest well then."

He watched in amusement as she climbed into a nearby tree and made a bed of it hidden among the leaves.

The next day, Mithlhach's plan was put to test. She tied end-to-end all the coils of rope the elves of Greenwood had given them and knotted one end to the centre seat of the boat. The other end she secured to her wrist as she and Lindil climbed up the mountain towards the nearest and largest ledge. Once they reached it they pulled the boat up onto it before continuing their climb to the top. Once they reached the first peak they saw on the other side a shallow valley with a stream running through it. This time, they first lowered the boat gently to the ground before climbing carefully after it. It took many a weary day, travelling from peak to peak, bringing with them the boat full of supplies until they reached the final mountaintop. But as they looked down at the plains below their hearts were filled with dismay for not only was it by far taller than the others but it was steeper and the ledges were none of them large enough to rest the boat on. The rope was not long enough for the boat to reach the ground and even if they lowered it as far as possible and dropped it the rest of the way the boat would surely smash to pieces at the foot of the mountain.

They pondered over the difficulty as they rested and ate. The day began to wane and still no plan presented itself to Mithlhach. She looked at Lindil as he peered over the peak at the lands stretched out below, in his eyes a mix of admiration and affection.

"If only you had wings," said Mithlhach and he turned to smile at her.

"What of your minions?" he asked, "Can they not help us?"

"Their web is not strong enough."

"Yet their web can hold your weight as it did in the mountains when you slept. Can they not make a hammock for you now and lower you to the ground?"

"I do not ask them to do things for me that are not necessary."

"I suppose making a bed for you was necessary as well as the shield they made to protect you from midges?"

"I did not ask that of them, they did it of their own accord."

"Do you not think it necessary for us to get down from the mountain with the boat?"

"Yes," she sighed and then looked around to see if any spiders were nearby.

She could not see any and when she called for them they did not come. She was idly twirling the rope in her hands when a sudden thought came to her. Seeing the spark back in her eyes Lindil prepared himself for her plan and hoped it was not a jest. He watched her find the centre of the rope and undo the middle knot so that they had two ropes. She left half the rope tied to the boat and tied the other end to the peak as she told him what they would do. It would be lengthy and risky so they had to hurry. The sun was low in the western sky when Mithlhach began the climb down in the full glare of it against the mountainside. As she climbed down Lindil gently lowered the boat to her right. Once he had run out of rope, Mithlhach made her way to the boat and slowly put one foot into it, testing the strength of the rope. It held very well so she stood in the boat and took out her sword. She stood with her hand against the cliff for a few moments and then drove her sword into it. She had to stand in the boat to do so for she could not draw her arm as far back while clinging to the cliff. Lindil blinked. He could scarcely believe that the sword had not broken. He looked at his own sword and frowned.

Mithlhach had knotted and wound the other rope round the hilt of her sword. She tied it to the boat and then untied the first rope from the boat so that Lindil could pull it up and secure it to the hilt of his own sword. As Lindil climbed down, Mithlhach carefully unwound the rope and let the boat down. By the time Lindil was level with her the boat was hanging from the hilt of her sword on the whole length of the rope.

"Now slide down it," said Mithlhach.

Lindil did so and when he reached the bottom he drew back his arm and plunged his sword into the mountain with elvish prayers on his tongue. The wall here was softer and his sword went in easier than he had thought. In this way, the maiden and the elf made their slow and tiresome way down the mountainside. Mithlhach's hands felt sore and scratched as the sun disappeared and a pale moon rose in its lingering light, but the climbers did not stop. As the night drew on and stars appeared in the darkening sky Mithlhach felt grateful for the love with which Vror had carved the blessing into her sword which kept it from snapping. Yet also she felt blessed for the strength of the rope and the lightness of the boat. Looking up, she saw Lindil climbing down towards her. When he was level with her he looked down and smiled. 

"It seems this is our last climb," he said.

Mithlhach gave a sigh of relief and Lindil told her to get into the boat.

"I shall lower you down with it," he said putting his own sword in the boat. 

Mithlhach nodded, too tired to speak, and lay down in the boat to rest her weary limbs. When she finally heard the soft thud of the boat touching the ground it was as though she had reached the shore after years on the sea. Suddenly she felt something heavy fall on her for Lindil had untied the rope and let it drop. She untied all the knots in the 2 ropes and coiled them as Lindil climbed down. He sat in the boat with her and took gladly the food she offered him. There the two tired companions supped and looked up at the mountain they had conquered with an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and relief that it was all over. Once they had eaten, Mithlhach curled up in the boat to sleep and Lindil lay down beside it, gazing at the stars above him.

"Mithlhach," he said, "I said once that I was not yet weary of the mountains of middle-earth."

"You did indeed," she replied sleepily.

"I am weary of them now."

Mithlhach laughed.

"So am I, Lindil."


	12. Adugristwen

Chapter 12

The sun was red and fiery. It bore down on Ohtar in fury and pain. He ran from it but it was always there above him. He could not bear to look at it but gradually it enveloped the whole sky, as though staining it with blood, and he could not escape it. He was compelled to see it. He raised his gaze to the sun but it was not the sun as he had thought. It was a great lidless eye, lashing out at him with its furious glare. Burning him to the depths of his soul till he felt as though there was nothing left of him to burn. Questioning him, it drove on inside his mind, searching for something Ohtar could not give him. Ohtar collapsed on the burning ground. He was surrounded by the flames and there was no way out. 

"Ohtar!"

He awoke of a sudden and found himself in the darkness of his tent. A man stood over him holding a lantern.

"What is amiss?" Ohtar asked him.

"The maiden lives."

"What?"

"Her things are gone from your tent and I believe that she was the ranger who warned us of the Uruk-hai, for that ranger had her sword. Melfalas, I deem, knows it also. He let her leave before I had a chance to do aught."

"Of course she lives," muttered Ohtar, shaking his head, "The ring was not destroyed. That fool Amrothos has it. You must take it from him and destroy it. Hurry."

"Shall I tell him of the maiden?"

"No."

"But if she is alive you will not be tried for her murder."

"If he believes her to be dead already he will not hinder us in destroying her and he will not look for her himself."

The man nodded and left. Ohtar lay back down and the flames from his dream threatened his mind.

*******

With ropes tied to the boat, Lindil and Mithlhach dragged it behind them. They had to trudge around the mountain and along the riverside till they could find a place where the waters were not too rough for their small boat.

"Lindil," said Mithlhach, "How do you bear being apart from Nimril? Do you not miss her terribly?"

Lindil smiled sadly.

"I feel as though I have left a piece of my heart behind."

"And yet you wish to remain in middle-earth without her?"

"She does not feel as I do about these lands and I did not mean to stay here without her. Circumstances led me to travel with you…"

"Suspicions," mumbled Mithlhach.

"…but in the end I shall return to her. Perhaps you do not understand because you are mortal, time is not the same for us as it is for you. The time I spend in delaying my departure is naught compared to the infinite blessed ages I shall have with Nimril."

"But what if you do not return?"

"I shall return. Were I not sure of it I would never have left her side. Do not feel wretched," he added, seeing her face, "I do not regret my decisions. 'Tis true that at the start I did not deem that I would be with you for so long but you told me to turn back many times. I chose to stay. 

"My love for Nimril goes beyond time and I shall be with her again before long. You question me on being apart from my loved ones yet you too are away from those you love."

"I had no choice."

"Yet you have been able to keep yourself from going back before for you knew in your heart that when the time came you would be reunited. Is that not true?"

"Yes."

"Then you understand me?"

"Not entirely."

"Would it not be wrong for me to sacrifice your well-being for my own happiness? A happiness that would be mine whether or not I stayed? You said so yourself that there must be a greater reason that bids me to stay that neither of us can comprehend. Let us leave it at that."

"As you wish."

"Look, here we can let our boat on the river."

"Let us eat a little first."

Lindil took some bread from the boat while Mithlhach collected wood for a fire. She wanted a hot meal, she told the elf. Under his awed gaze, she took a twig from the pile of wood and held it in her hand until it burst into flame. She then put it among the other pieces of wood to create a blaze while she took vegetables from the boat to chop.

"I would never have got my sword into that mountain the first time had I not melted the rock a little first," she said as she prepared a stew.

"Surely you jest," said Lindil.

Mithlhach smiled and shook her head.

"Though I did not expect it to work. Without Aulë's blessing on my sword it probably would not have."

Lindil stared at the fire she had made and then at her. 

"How do you do it?" he asked.

"I do not know." 

She took what was left of the twig out of the fire and crushed the ashes in her hand.

"Having the ability to destroy is nothing to be proud of," she said, letting the black ashes blow away in the breeze.

"Does your brother share your ability?"

"No," said Mithlhach, washing her hands in the river before starting to eat, "He does however have a kinship with swans, like my mother did. Himthol is very much like his namesake. Never one to get cross or lose his temper. Cool of mind and warm in manner; he has many friends in Dol Amroth and other parts of Gondor. He is also very learned in lore. He would at times journey to Minas Tirith to learn from Lord Faramir all that was taught to him by Tharkun."

"Tharkun?"

"Ah yes, that is the name the dwarves know him by, I do not immediately recall what we used to call him as children."

She chewed her food thoughtfully for a few moments. It was a pleasant early spring day with a warm sun shining down on them and a cool breeze blowing gently over their faces. A mist was about them caused by the crashing falls a little way behind them and the rush of the river was mingled with the sounds of chirruping birds overhead. Mithlhach looked up at them and saw a single grey cloud pass across the sky.

"I remember now," she said at last, "His name is Mithrandir."

Having heaved the boat into the river the two friends started again downstream. The current was still strong and where the tributaries of the Entwash met the Anduin, they needed all their strength and concentration to prevent the boat from crashing into the banks or spinning out of control. It was quite late in the day when in the red glow of the setting sun Lindil saw something ahead of them.

"Look," he cried.

The mists cleared before them revealing the shape of a mighty ship blocking the path of the river and heading upstream. The river foamed at its prow and seagulls circled it, crying out in their shrieking voices as though in warning. 

"It is the island, Cair Andros," said Lindil.

But island or not, they were still headed for it at a great speed and were in danger of being dashed against the rocks. They steered the boat as far right as possible but a stray current knocked them suddenly onto the side of the island so they had to get out of the boat to push it back in.

No sooner had they got out of the boat then several people suddenly surrounded them, peering at them curiously with spears in their hands. Lindil had just begun to explain their presence when from the crowd a tall young maiden suddenly burst out and bent down a little to embrace Mithlhach. Mithlhach felt drowned in the maiden's golden hair. She cleared it away from before her own eyes and saw Lindil looking amusedly at her for an explanation. But she had none to give him.

The girl finally moved back so that Mithlhach could see her fair face. So different they looked standing together. The girl was but sixteen years old, or so Lindil deemed, though she was far taller than Mithlhach. She had a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her bright blue eyes, whereas Mithlhach looked up at her in confusion, her own skin noticeably darker from her years under the sun.

"Adugristwen?" said Mithlhach uncertainly.

"Yes yes, so you recognise me at last," said the girl.

"You have grown a great deal since last I saw you."

Adugristwen laughed.

"Else you have shrunk!" she said, "Where have you been all these years? Tell me all there is to tell!"

"I shall tell nothing till I hear what has brought you here. What is a maiden of Rohan doing in Cair Andros? And where have you left your poor dear pony?"

"Ah, so you remember him! I have grown far too big for him now and now must ride a horse. He is very beloved to me too, you must see him. But enough of my chatter for now, for we sup soon and you must join us."

She looked to the people behind her for approval and when they nodded she turned back to Mithlhach, smiled at her and Lindil and then led them onto the island where preparations for a feast were being made. Lindil's unexplained presence was not lost on Adugristwen. She was puzzled by it and she insisted on knowing what he was doing journeying with her friend. However, Mithlhach would explain nothing until they were alone.

After they ate, Adugristwen led them to the highest point of the island so they could gaze at the distant city of Minas Tirith and tell their story to her. Mithlhach told her only the things she would find pleasing and mentioned nothing of Ohtar. Lindil found himself comparing her story to the one that he had told to Brethildur. Mithlhach took care not to leave out anything that would make her friend smile or laugh and throughout said not a thing of her own feelings. When Lindil had spoken to Brethildur he had focused a great deal on his own feelings. Yet both accounts omitted the details surrounding Ohtar and to Lindil's surprise, Mithlhach spoke of Lindil's feelings at every occasion with uncanny accuracy.

Then it was Adugristwen's turn to explain. She was on her way to Gondor after the messengers came to Rohan to tell of the end of the war of the ring. She decided however, to stop at Cair Andros as in driving the enemy away from the island the men defending it had suffered great losses and many were wounded. Since then, she had remained to help with things and would be journeying back to Rohan in a few days.

Lindil had a question for her this time for he did not yet know how she had come to know Mithlhach. Adugristwen animatedly told him how Mithlhach had passed through Rohan on her way to Bree. Adugristwen met her there, walking across the plains and insisted on going with her as far as she could. Which, as it turns out, was not far at all as she was very young then and Mithlhach would not allow it. Still, she had not forgotten her and was very pleased to have met her old friend again. Adugristwen's talk had a way of lightening the hearts of others so that when Mithlhach lay down to rest she was able to sleep in peace, untroubled by dreams and Lindil was able to put aside the worry that was growing in his heart.

But the fiery eyes that troubled Ohtar haunted another. They searched his mind, probing his thoughts painfully. Bearing down in their blinding brightness on his soul. 

"Where?" it seemed to ask him again and again.

He lifted his arms to shield his face from the intensity of the light and cried out that he did not know. Forcing open his eyes he dragged himself out of the dream back into the darkness of his room. Slowly the walls of his rooms appeared around him as he opened his eyes, yet he felt the eye looking at him like a flame before his own eyes. He soon realised that the red glow was coming from the Mithlhach's ring as he held his hand in front of his face. It had shone strong like this when he had crossed the borders of Gondor, looking over at the ruins of Mordor to the east. 

He heard a knock on the door and sat up, sweat dripped from his brow and an aching pain lingered in his heart.

"Come in," he heard himself say.

"There is a messenger here from the camp, your majesty."

"What has happened? Bid him enter."

The messenger came in and stood before Prince Amrothos.

"I bear ill tidings," he said, "The camp was attacked by Uruk-hai from Dol Guldur. We have lost no comrades but are greatly delayed."

"And Ohtar?"

"He is recovering steadily, though he is troubled by strange dreams."

"Dreams?" repeated Amrothos, with a hand on his wet brow.

"Yes, sir. He speaks of fiery eyes. In his sleep he once called out 'the sea is ablaze'."

Amrothos frowned and turned his head to look out of the arched opening of his window to the moonlit sea. When he turned back he saw the messenger looking intently at the ring but when he realised Amrothos' gaze was upon him he quickly turned away.


	13. To Minas Tirith

Chapter 13

Two figures stood high on a grey tower; an elf-maiden and her brother. Their fair hair blew in the wind behind them as they looked out on the sea.

 "I understand why he has been so long, Nuincú," said the maiden, "From the moment he left I knew he would not return in haste. But he will return, of that I am certain. Now I desire to go to him and wait no longer at the havens while he faces the perils of the world without me. An ageing world, yet he loves it so much so, that he cannot leave it."

 "And what of _thy _feelings?" said Nuincú, "Does thou desire to stay in middle-earth longer?"

 "Nay," she replied, "Yet I cannot depart without him. I shall stay as he stays. Besides, I am keen to meet the maiden, for if he has taken her as a sister, she is a sister to me also."

 "Lindil told me thee would understand but I did not believe it."

 "If only he had told me earlier of his plans to stay I would have travelled with him. But we were very far by the time he had made those plans."

 "Thee, Nimril?" asked her brother, "Travel all those miles to Erebor and Gondor?"

 "I would have gone for him."

 "And been a nuisance to him no doubt," said her brother, "It is better this way."

 "I mean to go after him, Nuincú," she said resolutely.

 "Folly!"

 "Thou are to come with me."

 "I shall not go and neither will thee."

 Nimril was about to reply when something caught her eye. Her fair face suddenly became troubled and she pointed out to the sea.

 "Nuincú, what does thou see yonder?" she cried, "To mine eyes is seems as though a flame were floating across the sea."

 "Yes," said an older voice.

 They turned to see Lindil's father, Lindir, standing behind them.

 "Though 'tis more than a flame," he said, "I have had word with Cirdan and he tells me that it is a ship bearing a being of fire.  Sauron may have fallen yet it seems another is coming to take his place."

 "What must we do?" asked Nuincú.

 "Defend the havens and prevent the evil from entering middle-earth. The ship travels fast. We have little time."

 Nimril gripped her brother's arm as she watched her fellow elves already gathering under the guidance of Cirdan. 

 "Why is this happening?" said Nimril, "Now, when we should be leaving these shores in peace, another trouble appears on the horizon. And I have not even Lindil with me to face it."

 "Then go," said Lindir, "Find that foolish son of mine and stay with him away from here till the danger has passed."

 "Nay, for I cannot leave here when my peoples are threatened. I must stay and see this through to whatever end there may be," she replied.

 "Nimril," said Nuincú, "Follow Lindir's counsel. I would have thee safe with your betrothed now. If anything were to happen to thee he would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself."

 "First thee forbid me to go and now thee forbid me to stay. I shall do what in my heart feels right. I shall stay."

 Lindir smiled.

 "You have a will to match Lindil's," he said, "Let us hope you are both of you right. He, for going and you, for staying."

 "We shall find out soon enough," said Nuincú.

 They all looked toward the sea as the flame drew nearer. As it came, many turned away from the brightness of the fire. Soon they would know with what purpose it had come.

*******

 Adugristwen took Mithlhach and Lindil to the small stable as soon as they awoke the next morning. There they witnessed the grace and beauty of Adugristwen's beloved horse. As Adugristwen brushed his dark mane she looked expectantly at Mithlhach.

  "Yes," said Mithlhach, "He is indeed lovely."

 Hesitantly, Mithlhach reached a hand out to stroke the horse and it moved forward to nuzzle her hand. She laughed and Lindil noticed some relief in the sound of it.

 "I knew you would like him," said Adugristwen, "I love him dearly but I'm afraid it makes poor Alta indo very jealous. I can never travel without him as well."

 "Never?" asked Mithlhach, "Then he is here too?"

 "Yes, he is here."

 She opened a door and inside was a brown pony idly chewing some hay. He trotted towards Adugristwen and nuzzled her shoulder.

 "Poor thing," she said, "I have not forgotten you. I just do not know what to do with you now." 

 The pony did not seem to remember Mithlhach but it was friendly all the same.

 "Come, Mithlhach," said Lindil, "It is time for us to depart."

 "Farewell then, Adugristwen," said Mithlhach.

 "Must you leave so soon?" asked Adugristwen.

 "My brother must be waiting for me."

 "Then farewell, old friend."

 Mithlhach and Lindil went out to their boat and heaved it back into the water. As they floated down the river, Mithlhach turned back and saw Adugristwen wave to them from a cliff. She waved back and then got ready to row. Suddenly, she heard Lindil's pleasant laugh.

 "What amuses you now?" asked Mithlhach.

 "Do you not see?"

 "See what?"

 "No matter," he said.

 "Tell me, so that I may share in your mirth."

 "I would rather not."

 "Are you keeping secrets from me?"

 "_You _keep secrets from me all the time."

 "Not for my own amusement."

 Lindil smiled at her but would say not a word.

 As the river took them to Osgiliath the dark jagged walls of Mordor appeared to the left like the black bones of a vicious beast that once was dangerous but now was dead. To the right rose the White Mountains, in which the white city was embedded, glistening like crystal in the sunlight. It was to these mountains that Mithlhach's gaze went. She would not even glance to the east but she still felt a coldness steal over her heart. A sudden shiver and the feeling was gone. 

 "Do you think we shall reach the city by nightfall?" she asked of Lindil.

 "If we row thus without pause, then of a surety we shall reach it."

 The elf looked behind them, gazing far into the distance.

 "I see no sign of the knights," he said.

 "They may have overtaken us as we made our way through the mountains. Can we not make this boat go any faster?"

 "Row faster then," said Lindil, "But sustain yourself first."

 Mithlhach did so and then rowed until her arms ached and blisters appeared on her fingers. Despite the burst of speed they still did not reach Osgiliath till it was dark. They left the boat and made their way to the city on foot. It was very late when after passing through all the gates of the city they finally entered it. They asked the last gatekeeper about the knights and were dismayed though not surprised that the knights had come and gone already, taking their prisoner along with them.

 "Prisoner?" asked Lindil.

 "Yes indeed. As I hear it, one of the knights killed a lady and they are taking him to the Prince for judgement."

 They thanked the gatekeeper and looked for an Inn.

 "Perhaps it is best that we stay behind them," said Mithlhach.

 "Why is that?"

 "It will give Ohtar time to be punished for my murder."

 "Would that not be unjust?"

 "He left me for dead."

 "But you are not dead; therefore, it would not be fair to punish him for having taken a life he did not take."

 "Perhaps you are right. It would be better for him to be alive when we reach him."

 She fingered the hilt of her sword as she said so and Lindil was not ignorant of her intentions. 

 "Also," she added, "Himthol thinks me dead and I would not have him grieve for me needlessly for much longer."

 They entered the Inn and bespoke of two rooms. It was a little difficult to do so for the other occupants of the room were rather rowdy as they guzzled their beer. An especially loud shout made Mithlhach turn and glare at the one who created it. But her glare soon disappeared and a smile came to her lips.

 "So _that _was your secret," she said to Lindil.

 He too turned and laughed at what he saw. Three dwarves were sitting around a table, beer mugs in hand, feet not touching the ground and betraying evidence that they had drunk a little too much. Mithlhach walked to their table and looked down at them, her eyes sparkling in amusement. The first to see her was Merin. His eyes widened in shock and he almost fell off his chair. Corin actually did fall off his chair when he saw her, whereas Sarin just stared, guilt-stricken.

 "It is...hic... her spirit!" cried Merin, "She has come to reprimand us!"

 "Oh forgive us spirit," said Corin, getting unsteadily to his feet, "We will curb our drinking habits."

 "And avenge your death to atone," added Merin.

 Lindil marvelled at Mithlhach's ability to hold back her mirth. He was very hard put it not to laugh again himself. Mithlhach caught Corin as he started to topple over and put him on a chair before drawing one up for herself.

 "Is that why you are here?" she asked, "To avenge my death? What do you know of it and how?"

 By this time Sarin had managed to find his tongue as well as part of his senses. His speech seemed surprisingly fluent to Lindil but this was just Sarin's way. He always had control (or at least the semblance of it).

 "We saw fiery arrows shoot into the sky," he said, "So we asked what it meant of a passing messenger and he told us you were dead. So we gathered ourselves into a cart, borrowed two horses to pull it and made our way south. We found a few knights. A horrible battle they seemed to have just been in, terrible really."

 He paused, falling into a daze, and seemed to be very interested in the wall opposite. Mithlhach turned to see what he was looking at but there was nothing there.  When she turned back, Sarin had his face down on the table and was snoring softly. She shook him awake and he continued talking as though nothing had happened.

 "So the knights told us of their prisoner Ohtar who had killed you. But he was not there. Most of the knights had already journeyed on and he was with them. So we came here to avenge your death but it seems we were too late again."

 He looked wistfully into his half-empty jug of beer and then suddenly looked up at Mithlhach as if he had not seen her before. Then he looked at Lindil.

 "What are you doing here?" he asked the elf.

 "I am travelling to Dol Amroth with Mithlhach."

 "With whom?"

 "With me," said Mithlhach.

 "Travelling with a spirit!" cried Corin, "Are you out of your senses, Lindil?"

 "No, master dwarf," replied Lindil with a smile, "It is _you _who are out of your senses. Have you not yet realised that she is real?"

  All three dwarves turned to Mithlhach and stared at her intently.

 "She does look rather real," said Merin, fidgeting with his beard.

 "How could she be?" asked Corin.

 "When Ohtar left, thinking me dead, Lindil found me," Mithlhach explained.

 "So you are alive then," said Merin slowly.

 "Very much so," she replied.

 "Then you better get some rest before you leave for Dol Amroth tomorrow," said Sarin before promptly falling asleep again.

 The others still did not seem sure that she was really there but they were too sleepy to think about it much and just watched quietly as she left the room to find her bedchamber. When Mithlhach got to her room she opened her bag and took out a small purse. She would have to purchase horses for herself and Lindil in the morning. Satisfied that she had enough to pay for them, she kicked off her boots and took off her belt and jerkin. Finally she fell onto the bed, glad of something soft to sleep on for a change.

*******

Amrothos came back to his room as night fell outside. He looked out of his window and saw angry clouds gathering overhead. They seemed almost red in the night sky as they rolled by. 

There was a knock on the door.

 "Himthol?" he said.

 The door opened and it was not Himthol but the knight who had brought the message from the camp before. Amrothos turned to see him, unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes. He knew Himthol would never again speak to him. Amrothos wished with all his heart that Himthol would come and forgive him but he knew that would never happen. He did not deserve forgiveness. 

 The knight placed a tray on the side table. It bore a dish of food and a goblet. As the knight left he passed another man who stood in the doorway. The man watched as Amrothos glanced at the food with distaste before going back to the window.

 "Come now, Amrothos," he said, "Even young Alphros does not fuss so about eating his supper."

 "I have not the heart to eat, brother," replied Amrothos.

 "I know what is in your mind," he said, placing a hand firmly on Amrothos' shoulder, "Yet you and I know that it was no fault of yours. Himthol knows it too."

  Amrothos stared down at his hands on the window sill and said nothing so his brother withdrew from the room bidding him a good night.

 The food seemed unappetizing still to Amrothos so he took the goblet and drained it in one gulp. As he gazed at the world outside it seemed to grow foggy and he could hardly see where the shore ended and the sea began. The mist made him dizzy so he turned away from the window, yet still before his eyes there was a mist. He rubbed his eyes but that only served to make his vision more cloudy.

  A dark figure moved towards him in the fast descending darkness, so Amrothos put out his hand to push it away. But his arm felt so weak he could hardly move it. He fumbled for his sword and managed to draw it. He tried to hold it steadily before him but it slipped from his slackening grip with a clatter on the stone floor.

 Suddenly, his legs gave way and he fell limply to the ground. The goblet dropped and spilled wine over the floor beside him like a pool of blood. The figure bent to see Amrothos' fingers but what it sought was not there.


	14. Loss and Gain

Chapter 14

Loss and confusion enfolded Mithlach's dreams though when she awoke she knew not what she had seen to have caused it. A troubled fluttering remained in her heart when her eyes opened and her brow was furrowed. The sun had not yet risen so she climbed out of her window and onto the tiled roof to wait for it. Pale stars still twinkled overhead as a soft light began to grow in the east. Slowly the sun appeared, red like the eye of a dragon but surrounded by soft clouds, stained by its colour, making it appear more like the eye of a far gentler beast. Mithlach waited for that warmth in her heart that came every time she saw the sun, as though she were meeting again a dear friend.

But her light did not comfort Mithlach this time. She, the sun, stared down at the world, soaking the white city with rays that made it blush. She bathed all with her warmth but she did not seem to see Mithlach, sitting there alone on a rooftop. It made Mithlach feel strangely invisible as though she was indeed the spirit the dwarves had thought her to be. And yet she felt exposed. For without the distant sun watching over her she felt vulnerable. It was as though a shield was dropping from about her and it had not started to drop today. Nay, it had been falling gradually ever since Ohtar had taken from her the ring. 

 A light rain began to fall, rousing Mithlach from the vengeful thoughts that had began to invade her mind. She climbed back down to her window and into her room. She collected her things and clasped her belt around her waist. Having her sword with her made her heart feel stronger and she took it out of its sheath for a closer look. Running her finger across the flatness of the blade she smoothed out the faint scratches till it shone like the surface of still water. Satisfied that it was now perfect she put it back in its sheath, threw her cloak about her shoulders, picked up her bag and went down for breakfast.

Lindil and the dwarves sat about a table looking very displeased. It was not long after Mithlach joined them that she found out the reason why. The dwarves still wished to travel to Dol Amroth to bring Ohtar to justice and they did not want Lindil with them.

 "If anybody is to slay Ohtar," said Mithlach, "It shall be me."

 "Nobody is to slay anybody," said Lindil, "As I have been trying to explain to your friends. Therefore, there is no cause for them to travel with us much further."

 "Us?" said Corin, "Why do _you_ go to Dol Amroth?"

 "He goes because I wish it," said Mithlach, "He is as a brother to me and no brother would leave his sister mid-journey."

 "No, indeed," said Merin.

 "We must leave as soon as we are able," said Mithlach, "Therefore, after breakfast I shall purchase horses for Lindil and I while you dwarves can come, if you wish, in your cart."

 "You must not purchase me a horse," said Lindil, "I need it not."

 "Then how are you to come with us and then return later to the Havens?"

 "I can find my way back," he replied, "And I am to leave these lands, where is the wisdom in acquiring a horse for me?"

 A man, who had entered the Inn earlier under Mithlach's watchful eye, had finished his talk with the Innkeeper and was now approaching her table. She did not draw her sword for she recognised him. He seemed rather nervous as he greeted her.

 "Are you the maiden Hiriluin?" he asked.

 "Yes," she replied to Lindil's surprise, "You come from Cair Andros, do you not?"

 "That I do. I come bearing a gift from Adugristwen?"

 "Gift?"

 "It awaits you outside. 'A fine gift for any halfling such as yourself'," he said adding hastily with a suppressed smile, "The maiden's words, not mine. The message was to accompany the gift."

 Mithlach and the others followed him outside. As they did so Lindil drew close to Mithlach.

 "Hiriluin," he whispered, "_lady blue_, is that your true name?" 

 Mithlach smiled and shook her head. She laughed when she saw what waited for her outside the Inn and told the man from Cair Andros that it was indeed a fine gift for any halfling and much appreciated. Looking scornfully at the grey clouds above and shaking the light rain drops from his mane stood Alta Indo. Seeing a familiar face he came towards Mithlach and whinnied in complaint.

 "Do not worry," she told the pony, "The rain will let up soon."

 The messenger bid them all a hurried farewell before mounting his own horse and galloping back to the island. Mithlach fastened her bag on the pony while the dwarves brought their own horse and cart from the stables. Their cart was quite large and laden with many supplies. They all bundled into it and then watched Lindil expectantly. Mithlach looked at him too.

 "Well," she said, "A horse may have carried us both but this poor pony could never take our combined weight."

 "He can come with us in the cart," piped up Merin.

 His brother glared at him and Corin went as far as to knock his hood off his head but for the first time in his life, Merin did not quell under their stares. Standing his ground, Merin made room for Lindil in the cart. 

 "Then everything is settled," said Mithlach, "Let us depart immediately."

 Mounting the pony she set it to a trot with the cart following behind. Soon they had passed the crossings of Erui and were making their way towards Pelargir in the west. The Sirith River blocked their path to Dol Amroth and from Pelargir was the only bridge to cross it. As they journeyed on, the sweet smell of moist soil rose into the air for the rain fell lightly another hour before stopping altogether. The wind was too wild for the rain to last long and soon the clouds above began to thin out and fly away. Mithlach looked ever and anon at the sky above, hoping for the reassuring glimpse of the sun. But grey clouds hid away the blue and would not let the sun beam down upon the earth.

 Lindil told the dwarves of the happenings since Mithlach had left Erebor and as he did so they seemed less hostile towards him. They could not ignore the service he had rendered her or the important part he played in her survival. Still, they did not wholly believe his version of the events and constantly questioned Mithlach for verification.

 They arrived at Pelargir as stars filled the sky. There, they settled for the night  instead of crossing the bridge. The people of Pelargir were not over friendly with strangers and seemed unlikely to welcome them. So in the end they spent the night, not in an Inn but out under a tree. Mithlach, as was her wont, slept in its branches while the dwarves slept huddled against it and Lindil lay a little away so that his view of the stars was not hindered by the trees leaves.

 Morning came and the bridge was crossed. From then on they travelled at a faster pace. There was an urgency about Mithlach and Lindil felt something akin to the cloud of anxiety that had descended on them on their way to the misty mountains. Mithlach was worried, this was clear to him. Though had he not been with her so long, he would not have known it to look at her. What worried her was a mystery, perhaps even to herself. She kept glancing up at the sky and several times he saw her touch her finger as though twisting an invisible ring around it. The anxiety emanated from her as it had before but to a far lesser degree, else Lindil had perceived it sooner than he had before.

 By nightfall they had reached Linhir where the rivers Gilrain and Serni met and flowed on together to the sea. They rested the night there and awoke early the next morning to continue their hasty journey.

 Finally, the mountains appeared and as they neared them the sky grew dark. Mithlach stared at them for a moment before suddenly spurring the pony to a frantic gallop, leaving the cart and the road behind her.

 Lindil was waiting for her to do so for he had felt her anxiety grow. He had Sarin ready to charge after her when the time came. The time had come and the cart hurried after her, drawn by the two horses of Dale.

 For hours they galloped on without pause until the pony and the horses were too fatigued to go further. But Mithlach would not stop. She dismounted and ran the rest of the way at least as far as she could go until she fell to her knees herself, exhausted, as night fell about her. 

 After a rest, the others caught up with her and she got onto the pony again to speed towards the mountains. This time the others did not fall behind. When they reached the stone walls of Dor-en-Ernil, dawn was not far behind them. Mithlach climbed up the stone walls and pressed her hands against it. 

 "There are flames in these mountains," she said, "How can there be flames?"

 She paused as if listening and Lindil came and stood beside her. He saw now the worry in her eyes and it shocked him for he had never seen her like this before. Her eyes glowed in the darkness like red-hot ashy coals. 

 "Small flames," she said, "Scattered but burning strongly. They must be torches."

 She closed her eyes. When she opened them the glow was gone.

 "We must get in somehow," she said.

 She looked quickly about for any opening or cave but there was none. 

 "Why?" asked Lindil. 

*******

Amrothos opened his eyes but his vision was still unclear. His arms ached horribly and he could not feel the ground beneath his feet. He went to wipe the sweat from his brow but his hands were restrained above him. The feeling of cold steel against his wrists told him why he could not move them. Looking up he saw that the shackles binding his hands were on a chain. It went through a ring in the ceiling and then went down again to be secured to a hook on the wall. It left him hanging just above the ground.

 He soon realised that it was the pain of the shackles biting into his skin that had awoken him. He felt a drop of warm blood roll down his arm. Touching the ground with his toes he gave the chain a sharp tug. It only served to give him more pain but he tried again and again until the drop of blood became a trickle and he had to give up. The chain could not be broken.

 He looked about him and saw that he was in a cave. A few torches were stuck in the ground about him but beyond them he could see nothing. Who would do this to him? And why? He could not understand it. He then recalled the knight who had betrayed a strange interest in Mithlach's ring yet he could not believe that he would resort to this.

 Since that day, Amrothos had kept the ring hidden away in secret. He felt it important to keep it safe for its owner had fought so hard to keep it out of Ohtar's hands. There was surely some reason why she would do so. He would not be honouring her memory were he to let Ohtar have it. It seemed a long time later that he heard the voice of the knight echoing towards him. The knight came in but did not look at Amrothos.

 "He is here," he said.

 Another man entered the circle of light about Amrothos. It was as he had thought. Ohtar. 

"Where have you put the ring, Amrothos?" asked Ohtar.

"I shall not tell you," Amrothos replied.

"Do you not understand how dangerous it is?"

 "It is not dangerous and neither was she."

 "You are under her spell! Can you not realise this? Fight it, Amrothos!"

 Amrothos shook his head.

 "You are so very wrong," said Amrothos, "I wish there was a way for me to make that clear to you."

 "Let me have the ring! If you do not think it dangerous why do you keep it from me?"

 "Why do you want it?"

 "It must be destroyed."

 "You have killed her. She, who was no threat to you alive. What threat is she to you now that she is dead? Do you fear she shall come again to life to exact revenge?"

 "I do not fear it, it has already occurred."

 "How can that be?" asked Amrothos, sceptically.

 "The ring lives, therefore, she lives. Now tell me where it is."

 "If she lives, then it is in her hands only that I shall place it."

 "Not if you are dead."

 "If you kill me you shall never know where it is."

 "Perhaps some lashings will persuade you better than my words."

 "Nothing will persuade me."

 Ohtar was not convinced.

 "You know it pains me to do this, old friend," said Ohtar, picking up a whip from the shadows, "But if this is the way to save you from her evil spells, so be it."


	15. Dor en Ernil

Chapter 15

Two dwarves, an elf and a maiden made their way up the mountainside with the elf leading the way. The sun had risen a little by this time and shone palely on their backs. 

 "How much further," asked Mithlhach.

 "We shall get to it soon," replied Lindil, "Have patience, child."

 "I _have _patience," she said, "It is _time _I am running short of."

 "You still have not told us why," complained Sarin.

 Corin would have repeated this statement with greater emphasis but his attention was hitherto focused on the far away figure of Merin driving the cart with Alda Into trotting happily beside it on a rope.

 "Why did you let that fool off on his own?" asked Corin.

 "He can handle the horses perfectly well," said Mithlhach, "Need I remind you that _you _were the one who insisted on coming with me. If you have now decided you would be better off with Merin, do not hesitate to join him."

 Corin glared at her, gave one last glance at Merin and then turned to Lindil to ask gruffly how long it would take. They were making for a cave that Lindil assured them could be accessed from several openings in the mountainside. The closest opening was a short climb, he had told them, but it seemed hours before they caught a glimpse of it. Mithlhach peered down into the darkness of the cave for only a moment before dropping herself into it. She landed on her feet and assured the dwarves that it was not such a long drop after all. She had cheered up somewhat as she led them through the tunnels. Something in the air outside and the sudden beaming of the sun just before she entered the cave dispelled her anxiety. She quickly lit the lantern Sarin passed down to her and waited for them to follow. 

 "Now, will you tell us what are doing here and why Merin is driving the cart around the mountains while we travel through them?" asked Sarin.

 "A friend of mine is in trouble here," said Mithlhach, "I need your help. And as the horses and the pony cannot come through the mountains with us, I need Merin to meet us at the other side where, I trust, is the way out to Dol Amroth."

 "A fight, is it!" said Corin with delight.

 "We shall see," replied Mithlhach and her next words were directed at Lindil, "How is it you know of these tunnels?"

 "I have lived far longer than you can guess," said the elf with a smile, "And I have not spent that time idle."

 "Then you have seen Dol Amroth?"

 "Not for a long while, child. It must have changed somewhat since last I beheld it."

 "It never changes," said Mithlhach, not without a touch of bitterness.

 They came to the mouth of two tunnels and waited for her to choose one. It did not take her long to decide and soon they were walking again. As they walked, Mithlhach exchanged stories with Lindil, comparing the events of her relatively short life to his. There were a few places they both had been though at different times and Mithlhach found herself wishing she had known him then. They were almost at her journey's end and soon Lindil would leave and make his way to the havens. It struck her forcefully that this could very well be the last conversation she would ever have with him. She felt a strange lump rise to her throat so she took a draught from her flask. She was about to speak again when he silenced her. 

 Soon, she too heard it. The steady pacing of booted feet upon the stone floor. They edged forward slowly, keeping the lamp far behind so that the light of it would not betray them. Just ahead stood a man in mail, holding a spear and watching between annoyance and amusement, the pacing of another. The man who paced stopped suddenly as if he had heard a sound. Lindil recognised the man standing as Belegore, one of the men who were to stand guard over Ohtar.

 "We must stop him," said the man who paced, in the voice of one who had repeated himself so many times that his words no longer held any meaning for him.

  Belegore ignored him now and began examining the point of his spear, glad that the other had finally stopped pacing He understood why the other man was so anxious but if he would only heed Ohtar's warnings he would not need to be there under duress. 

 "You have heard all Ohtar has to say," said Belegore, "Still you do not come to his side at your own will. It would have been better for you had you done so, Nendur."

 Nendur looked up from his agitated scrutiny of the ground and stood before Belegore with his back towards the tunnel where Lindil, Mithlhach and the dwarves were hiding. Belegore, however, did not look at him, even when he spoke.

 "Do you expect me to commit treason of my own free will?" said Nendur, "Were it not for the threat Ohtar and you hold over the lives of my family, I would never have agreed to this. That is the son of our prince yonder. We are meant to protect him, not..."

 He seemed unable to go on and instead resumed his pacing. Lindil saw Mithlhach's eyes flash in the darkness when the prince was mentioned but she made no movement. Belegore turned around and looked down the tunnel Nendur had gestured to.

 He was just considering taking out his pipe when he heard a strange thump and turned to see Nendur crumple to the ground. Mithlhach had hit him on the back of the head with the hilt of her sword. Belegore brought forth his spear at once but Mithlhach blocked his blows with her own sword. With a twist of her wrist she caused the spear to fly from Belegore's hands but he quickly drew his own short sword. 

 In the meanwhile, Sarin and Lindil had tied up Nendur who was still unconscious, while Corin watched from the shadows for the best time to strike Belegore. As Mithlhach fought him, she forced him to move around so that he had his back to Corin, thus giving the dwarf a chance to knock him unconscious. But Belegore dodged the blow and swung his sword without looking behind him to see what he fought. The blade missed Corin's head by inches, knocking off his hood, and came back round for Mithlhach.

 "Fell sorceress," muttered Belegore, "Why do you return as a curse to your people? We shall destroy you!"

 Mithlhach looked into the hardness of his orc-like eyes and gave up her attempt to subdue him without hurting him overmuch. She kicked his sword from his hand and ran her sword through his chest. He looked down at the black blade in surprise as if he did not believe it was there, protruding from his chest. Mithlhach withdrew her blade and wiped it clean of blood with the end of her cloak.

 "Well," she said, watching Belegore fall, "Let us hope the others are just as easily overcome."

 The others stepped over the dead body, as it lay in a fast growing pool of blood, and followed Mithlhach down the tunnel Nendur had looked to earlier. They soon found themselves before three tunnel openings. Corin took the left while Sarin took the right. Mithlhach took the middle and asked Lindil to go with her. There were no guards there but through a small hole in the ground Mithlhach finally found what she was looking for. 

 Ohtar stood in the centre of the cave below, whip in hand. He was alone it seemed. Suddenly, the sound of fighting echoing through the tunnels made him look about him but he did not look up. The hole was far too small for any man to slip through. He would never expect anyone to come from it.

 However, it was just the right size for Mithlhach. She waited till his back was turned before climbing into the hole, dropping lightly to her feet and drawing her sword. The ring of steel sliding from its sheath caused Ohtar to turn and look at her. He seemed not surprised to see her there. He simply smiled in his friendly way and drew his own sword.

 "She has come, just as I had told you she would," he said, not looking away from her.

 From the corner of her eye she saw a still figure to the side that seemed to sway gently. But she did not dare to turn her gaze from Ohtar

 "It seems he is indisposed and cannot reply," said Ohtar, mockingly.

 Mithlhach drew towards him angrily and he took a step back. Lindil watched no longer from above. He hurriedly searched for another way to the cave. He knew it was close but he doubted it was close enough. He could hear the dwarves fighting and Corin's gleeful war cries as he ran.

 As Ohtar fought Mithlhach he felt himself being forced ever backward and the sudden smile on her face unnerved him. It was not long before he knew the cause of it. The torches stuck in the ground around Amrothos were still burning strongly and he was getting pushed between two of them. Before he realised what was happening the flames suddenly grew a hundred fold and enveloped him from both sides. He dropped his sword in shock and cried out in pain. The flames died down about him but now he was on fire himself. He shed his cloak but to no avail. Mithlhach did not even bother to kill him now that she had the chance. She would just let him burn, Ohtar knew that. Lindil appeared in the doorway and Ohtar acted without thinking. He ran towards the elf and threw his arms about him. If he was to die he would kill Mithlhach's friend along with him. A small strong hand caught his shoulder and tried to drag him from Lindil but he would not go. A sudden sharp pain in his side made him let go and a second stab, this time through his heart, relieved him from the fiery pain forever. 

 Mithlhach held a hand over Lindil and the few flames that had begun to grow on his clothes shrank and vanished. She used Ohtar's half burnt cloak to clean her sword. She had killed the man who was to be tried for killing her. Now _she _would be tried for killing him! The thought made her chuckle as she helped Lindil up. Then she saw the swaying figure and the smile left her lips.

 It was Amrothos. His eyes were closed and he seemed still so they could not tell immediately if he was alive or dead. His wrists were shackled and chained to the ceiling from which he hung and blood dripped from his toes. As his body turned in the firelight Mithlhach saw the bloody marks of a cruel whip sliced across his bare back. She went to him quickly as Lindil got to the chains and began to unwind them to let him down. Mithlhach stayed with Amrothos and spoke his name softly but he did not awake. His head lolled about as the chains let him down and Mithlhach put an arm under his to hold him up. She touched his cheek with her other hand and looked into his face. Her own face was emotionless.

 "He is not dead," she said, undoing the shackles around his reddened wrists, "Come, we must get him out of this place." 

 Lindil helped her carry Amrothos out of the cave and into the open where they could tend his wounds.

 The sun had not yet set when they stepped out but her light was red and fading. Sarin and Corin were already outside waiting for them. They had dragged a few of the unconscious men outside. A surprise met Mithlhach's eyes although she did not betray any such emotion. Melfalas was there with a group of other knights.

 He was just telling them to go inside to bring out the others when he saw Mithlhach and Lindil carrying Amrothos. Merin had met him on this side of the mountains and told him the situation so he was not in the least surprised to see them.

 Amrothos was soon taken from them and lain down to be tended while Mithlhach explained to Melfalas what had happened. As she spoke she took off her gauntlets and asked him to pour water over her hands so that she could wash the blood from them.

 He expressed obvious disapproval at her amusement over Ohtar's death and when she pointed out the irony of it he was still unmoved and unimpressed.

 "But it is not for me to judge you," he said, "That matter is to be left for the prince."

 He spoke with such an air of certainty that she would be punished for killing Ohtar that she would have very much enjoyed another sword fight with him but Lindil smiled at her and shook his head so she gave up the idea. He then called her and she followed him to where Amrothos lay, away from the others. Lindil motioned for those tending him to leave. 

 "He is beginning to awaken," said Lindil, "Corin is hurt, and I must go tend to him."

As Lindil walked away, Amrothos opened his eyes and saw Mithlhach looking down at him.   

  "How do you feel?" she asked.

 Amrothos sat up and held his head.

 "Dizzy," he said.

 Looking up he smiled faintly and his eyes glowed.

 "You do not know what joy it brings me to see you thus, alive," he said.

 "I could say the very same of you," she replied.

 "How do you fare?"

 "Very well."

 "I am pleased to hear it. What have you been doing all these years?"    

 "Too many things to tell you in one day."

 "What's this?" he said of a sudden, for he saw a scar along Mithlhach's arm.

 "We have had a war, dear friend," she said, "As you and Himthol fought here in Gondor, I too fought, though in Dale."

 She noticed his parched lips and gave him her flask to drink from. As he did so, she asked him why Ohtar had taken him captive. Amrothos seemed loth to reply but after some prompting he finally told her that it was for the ring.

 "You fool!" she said, not harshly, "For a ring you suffered so. Why?"

 "It was the least I could do. I have failed you and your brother in every other way. At least your ring is not lost; I know how dear to you it is."

 Mithlhach did not think he really knew. Whatever its value, it was not worth his pain but she did not wish to say so. She did not want him to feel as though he had suffered for nothing.

 "I know not how to thank you," she said.

 She took his hand but he withdrew it and looked away.

 "Where is my ring?" she asked.

 "Safe," replied Amrothos, "In your brother's tomb."


	16. The Tomb

Chapter 16 

Mithlhach stared at him very hard.

"Tomb?" she said hollowly, "You mean he has built himself a tomb for when he dies?"

"You said yourself, we have had a war. With war comes much loss."

He put his hand on her shoulder but it seemed more as though he did it to steady himself than to comfort her. His eyes were soft still and his gaze strained but hers was as hard and cold as ice.

"Himthol was very brave and close to the hearts of all who knew him," Amrothos continued.

"'Was'? 'Knew'? Why do you speak so?" she brushed his hand off her shoulder and her eyes flashed, "Curse you, I am in no mood for riddles."

"Your brother has passed from this world," said Amrothos.

"You must be mistaken," said Mithlhach, though her lips trembled.

"No, I fear I am not," he said and dropped his gaze so that his dark hair fell about his eyes, "He died at my hand."

He saw her hand go for the hilt of her sword and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable. He had been waiting for this death for a long time. It seemed only just for it to be at her hand for she deserved the right to avenge the death of her brother. How could he take from her the one person she held close to her heart? Now she had no one, for her grandparents had passed long ago. Amrothos himself could hardly bear the loss of his dearest friend, how would Himthol's sister bear it?

He waited for the swish of the blade and the sweet release of death. The gentle breeze blew his hair about his face and he looked up. The maiden was no where to be seen. There was now only one path left open to Amrothos. He would have to take his own life.

"Where is she?"

Amrothos looked up and saw a puzzled Lindil standing over him. Seeing the look on Amrothos' face his confusion vanished.

"It is as I had feared," said Lindil, "Himthol is dead, is he not?"

Amrothos nodded.

"And his death is of my doing," he said.

"How has this come to pass?" asked Lindil, sitting across from him.

"It was my sword that killed him. We were in battle and though we fought hard, many of us were wounded and men fell about us. Through the clashing weapons I saw Himthol surrounded by orcs. He tried to fight them off but they were too much for him so I hurriedly made my way to him. I had almost reached him when a chilling cry was heard above us. The cry of death. I cowered at its call as did many others but soon I was slicing my way through those around Himthol. They had wounded him badly but still he fought them off. Together we slew the creatures but Himthol was all but spent. As he ran his sword through the last of them the cry was heard again and Himthol was struck. He fell to the ground and hardly moved. I bent over him and could scarce hear his breathing. 'My death will be slow and painful,' he said, 'spare me my friend.' What could I do but do as he asked. Though I wept at the thought of it and my hands were loth to do the deed I took the life of he who was as dear to me as a brother. The darkness had enfolded his heart and he could not endure it, nor could I bear to see him thus.

"But as soon as the deed was done I regretted my haste. For too late did word of the healing hands of the king reach me. Had I not taken his life he could have been saved."

"Did you tell all this to Mithlhach?"

"Mithlhach?"

"The maiden."

"I only told her that it was I who killed her brother."

"Where is she?"

"I know not for sure, but if I know her she will be at the closest peak though hidden. Somewhere she can see all but cannot be seen."

"She will not blame you once she has heard what you have told me," said Lindil.

So saying, the elf stood up and went in search of the highest peak. It was directly above and he climbed quickly but when he got there he saw no one. He surveyed the area around him and glimpsed a brief flicker to his left below. Leaning over a jutting rock he looked down and saw under it in an alcove of sorts, the person he sought. He had just begun to wonder how she had got there when she got up and climbed out. She did not seem surprised to see him there. She hardly seemed to think anything of it at all.

"He is dead, Lindil," she said, looking out towards Dol Amroth, "I should have been here. I should have fought by his side for my people, not with strangers."

"All people are your people, Mithlhach. Were we not all created by Eru?"

She did not answer and as she was turned away from him he could not see her face either.

"You must not blame yourself," said Lindil, "Nor should you blame Amrothos. He did not explain to you that your brother was in agony and begged for his friend to take his life. He did not kill him out of malice."

"When do you leave for the havens? You have accompanied me on my journey, now I shall travel with you on yours. At least as far as any mere mortal can."

"I shall ask Amrothos if I may take a ship to sail to the havens."

"Do so."

Mithlhach stood dangerously close to the edge. She shifted her booted foot and sent a few stones down the side of the mountain. She watched them fall with eerie interest and Lindil did not care to leave her there lest she decide to follow them.

"One from Gondor always keeps her word," she said, "I said I shall accompany you and I shall, if you so wish. You said you would be as a brother to me and you have. I shall see you safely to your destination. Do not fear, I shall not... leave before you do."

"Perhaps I had best not leave."

"But you must."

"I could stay for your lifetime."

"Then perhaps I might slip and end my lifetime at this very moment."

"Nay, Mithlhach. It is just that I do not wish for you to lose two brothers in one day."

"You have been a good friend to me but it is time you finally started on your journey home. Day by day I have seen your eyes grow weary of these lands. The time has truly come for you to leave."

"Come then, friend."

Mithlhach turned to take the hand stretched out to her yet so full of grief were her eyes that the elf put his arms about her in a brotherly embrace. To his dismay she began to cry.

"It is not right," she wept, "He should not have left this world so soon. If only I knew he was happy, wherever he is now."

"We elves know not where men go when they leave this world," said Lindil, "Yet the so-called 'doom of man' was first known as the 'gift of man'. I do not doubt that he is happy, perhaps, in a place lovelier than Valinor itself. And there he waits for you when it is your time to meet him again. That time is not now and it is not for you to decide when it is.

"Be glad that your brother has escaped the grievances of this world and weep no more." 

She let Lindil's wise words wash over her and her tears ceased to flow. 

"You have indeed been as a brother to me," she said, wiping away her tears, "For that, I am truly grateful. And though I shall miss thee, I can take comfort that to this brother at least I can bid farewell."

Hand in hand they made their way back to the others. Amrothos had been watching them but now he looked away. Having heard the news, the dwarves took off their hoods in respect and expressed their sympathies.

"Do not worry," said Mithlhach, "I have been this long without Himthol. I must simply wait a little longer to be reunited with him."

She glanced at Amrothos as he stood giving orders to his knights and hearing from Melfalas all that had happened. She hesitated a moment before she went to speak to him but before she could say a word Melfalas spoke.

"When we return to Dol Amroth, You shall be tried as a murderer," he told Mithlhach.

"For Ohtar's death?" she asked.

"Nay," said Melfalas, "For that was in defence and had you not killed him he would have surely killed Lindil. It is for taking the life of Belegore that you must be judged."

"Belegore?" said Amrothos, "The same man of whom Nendur speaks with the greatest contempt? Belegore played the greatest part after Ohtar in taking me captive and threatening others into helping him. I am sure his death is justified and she is thus, pardoned."

"I am very grateful," said Mithlhach coolly, "And I would be further obliged if you would direct me to my brother's tomb."

"Certainly," he replied.

Mithlhach went to get Alda Into while Amrothos mounted his own house. As she led the pony to him, Lindil walked beside her, telling her what Amrothos had said about Himthol's death. She listened without comment.

While she rode behind Amrothos in silence, Lindil and the dwarves followed in their cart. Ahead of them the castle of Prince Imrahil looked gloomy and forbidding in the shadow of the clouds gathered above it. Yet the clouds seemed to be passing at great speed as though in a hurry to get away from whatever was coming from the sea. 

The travellers entered the princedom and could not help but notice the apprehensive looks those around them had. A few looked suspiciously at Mithlhach and whispered among themselves. To them, Mithlhach gave her sweetest smile and they turned away. As they passed close by a crowd Lindil heard the mutterings between two old ladies.

"Back is she. I would never have thought it. And with the prince's son too," said one.

"She must have taken him in the first place," replied the other, "'Tis a good thing they caught the young wretch."

"How truly you speak, my dear. Though her presence here does not surprise me. Now that _it _is said to be coming."

"I heard _it _comes by ship. What did you hear?"

"Not much more, I'm afraid."

Soon, they were inside the castle walls and the horses were taken to stables. White pillars surrounded the courtyard and between each other pair was an arched doorway. Amrothos walked towards one and looked at Mithlhach.

"Shall I come down with you?" he asked.

"No, I prefer to see him alone."

"As you wish. The ring is on his hand."

He then turned to the others and bid them to follow the knights to a place for food and drink. But Mithlhach asked Lindil to wait for her in the courtyard so he took a seat before a fountain that stood in the centre of it. Just before Mithlhach began to take the steps down to the tomb, Amrothos stopped her.

"Forgive me, old friend," he said, "I would never had had such a thing happen. I would rather he was alive and I were dead."

Mithlhach only looked at him and then turned to go down the steps without a word. There was too much pain inside for any words to escape her lips. She stepped into the dark tomb and saw Himthol lying on a marble slab, covered by a pale veil. It was strange for him to be lying thus, in the open, for it was customary for the dead to be buried.

To her surprise he looked only as though he was sleeping, so fair and glowing was his face. His lip seemed to twitch into a smile and she quickly moved away the veil to look at him closer.

"You're alive," she cried, "Himthol!"

She took his hand as she spoke but it was as cold as ice and he did not reply to her calls. Her sudden brief hope was vanquished in a second. He was truly dead and nothing could bring him back. She stood for some time holding his hand and hoping against hope that his eyes would flutter open. But he was still and cold like the stone he lay upon. She closed her eyes and tears rolled gently down her cheeks. All her memories of him seemed to flood into her mind, overlapping like the waves of the sea. She could not help thinking of all that she had missed, memories of him she would never have. The moments she had with him that would never return and his stories and laughter, she would never again hear. His whole life stopped. No one would ever know what future he would have had, what he could have achieved. 

Mithlhach realised suddenly that the hand she held was warm. But only because it had absorbed the heat from her own hand. If only she could bring him back to life. She looked at her own hands scornfully. What use was her ability if it could not save the ones she loved. 

A great uproar could be heard above and Mithlhach could not ignore it.

"Do people no longer have respect for the dead," she muttered. 

She gently took her ring from Himthol's finger and put it on. She kissed his forehead, folded his hands over his chest and covered him with the veil. The sounds above got louder and she made out the words "fire demon" among the shouts. Shaking her head she reluctantly turned her back on Himthol and made her way upstairs. Lindil was waiting for her but no one else could be seen. 

"A strange ship is approaching," said Lindil, "Many have gathered to the harbour to see it come."

"Then let us too see who has attracted such an audience."

****

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you liked this latest chapter. Do leave a review and let me know what you thought of it! **)**


	17. Father of Flame

Chapter 17

The shore was lined with people, many of whom held weapons. At the pier stood Prince Imrahil with his sons and knights about him. He saw Mithlhach from afar and bestowed a smile upon her. She smiled back but when other people noticed her there she found it difficult to smile. They were expecting some great disaster and clearly thought she was the cause of it. Mithlhach ignored them and looked instead to the ship in the distance. At the helm there seemed to be a flame but beside it shone a white light like that of a star.

"What do you see?" she asked Lindil.

"A man it seems," he said, "With great flames about his head and in his eyes. Beside him...no, the light beside him has disappeared behind him and I can no longer see it."

"Do you think it is a fire demon?" she asked.

"I cannot say," he replied.

The ship was approaching fast with bellowing sales. The strong wind made it difficult for many to stay on their feet and Mithlhach saw with mild amusement a few people topple backwards. The ship finally docked and the flame haired man stepped ashore.

"See!" cried someone, "He has come now because _she _is here! Woe to us!"

"She summoned her fire demon father and he is now here!" shouted another.

The man turned his fair face upon them and smiled. He looked both young and old at the same time. Many ages of wisdom sat upon his brow and many years of pain reflected in his eyes. But his eyes were so bright that no one could look into them and many turned away. Only Mithlhach did not look away as he drew near the Prince.

"Forgive my arrival here," he said to Prince Imrahil in a low gentle voice and although he spoke softly, all heard his words, "I hope I have permission to walk upon your land."

"Do not speak so," replied the prince, "It is good to see you again, Lhachatar, you are most welcome."

Lhachatar turned his face to the people holding weapons and did not seem convinced by the prince's words. But he knew Prince Imrahil was sincere for none of the knights held a weapon of any kind.

"Well," said Lhachatar loudly to the ones who had shouted when he arrived, "You are wrong if you believe I have come to bring woe upon you or that I have been summoned. But what else you said is the truth."

Lindil looked at Mithlhach and for the first time he saw wonder in her eyes as she looked upon her father. He had returned. She had clutched Lindil's arm involuntarily when she saw Lhachatar and now as she hurried towards him, she dragged Lindil along with her. Lhachatar watched her come, he also saw the looks of loathing many threw her way and was saddened.

As they neared him, Lhachatar smiled for he saw in his daughter the look of her mother. To Lindil's surprise Mithlhach was looking straight into her father's eyes although, even for Lindil his eyes were too bright. Lhachatar's face seemed to grow old before their very eyes and the flames about his head calmed somewhat, gradually resembling red curls rather than flames. As Mithlhach stood before him, the light from his hair made her hair seem as though it was on fire as well.

"My daughter," said Lhachatar, taking her hand.

She looked up into his eyes and saw the fiery pained eyes from her dreams and suddenly understood that they only searched for her to watch over her. In her dreams there had been fondness in those eyes overwhelmed with pain so much so that she had hardly noticed it. Only now, when she saw the same eyes in which the love overwhelmed the pain, did she realise what she had missed.

He put his arms about his daughter and held her close, making her feel as though she was inside sunlight, warm and safe. Drawing her away he took her hand again and his smile broadened as he saw the ring.

"So it has been returned to you," he said, "For a few days I had thought you lost to me until I learned that the ring was on _his _dead hand and not yours," he shook his head, "Had I been able to come sooner, my son would be alive. But he had my foresight, he knew his death would be coming soon. All is the way it was meant to be. If only he was not so adverse to my presence I would have given him a token from myself, for me to watch over him by."

"Then my ring truly is a part of you," said Mithlhach, finding her voice.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, "It is a gem I fashioned from my flames so that I may always be with you and watch over you while I was gone."

"But why did you go at all?"

"I was not meant to be here," he said and the smile left his face, "Yet I came and made myself a home in Dor-en-ernil. A maiden made her way along the mountainside every evening and a swan guided her steps. She was your mother."

"Dor-en-ernil?" interupted Mithlhach, "But grandfather said you met her in the misty mountains."

"Now why would she have gone there? You know how your grandfather is easily confused. He must have muddled the two mountains because my Red Chamber is there.

"As I was saying, unbeknownst to her, a band of Orcs had inhabited the mountains and were watching, despising her trespass. It was not long before they attacked. Their noise drew me out of my place in the mountains and when I came upon them, the maiden was fighting them off with a staff. Her skill was admirable but she could not deal with them all. I slew the Orcs with one blow and the maiden was left standing among their dead carcasses in confusion. It was then that I realised that she did not have the sight of her eyes and my admiration for her grew.

"I explained to her what had happened yet she still seemed suspicious. The swan led her back home and I followed at some distance to insure her safety.

"From that day on I looked for her as she came for her walks (though now she came with her father) and we spent the evenings deep in discussion. My love for her grew but when those in Valinor heard of it they immediately called me back. Love for a mortal is forbidden but my love was reckless and I would not yield to the summons. Your mother, Hiriluin, returned my love and we were thus wed. For a few years all was well. There was only one problem.

"Although the brightness of my eyes caused her no discomfort, the fire of my hair was of too intense a heat for her, so I would travel to the misty mountains and shed my hair in a cave. A cave that came to be known as the Red Chamber for the light of my hair bathed the walls in a scarlet light.

"Soon, however, the people of Dol Amroth began to be suspicious of me. They believed me to be a spy of Sauron despite the efforts of Prince Imrahil and Hiriluin's parents to convince them otherwise. Then, after two years, the Valar sent spirits to take me to Valinor to be punished and I went willingly."

"Why?" asked Mithlhach.

"As the years went by, living with me made your mother become weaker. Mortal life is far too delicate to be under the constant light of a Maiar. When you were born after your brother, you had inherited too much of my fiery spirit for your mother to bear and she died. Such pain I felt, I cannot describe. I had lost the one thing I had ever held dear. From that day I no longer cared what became of me. It was then that I understood why my love had been forbidden. It was then that I returned to Valinor, a captive.

"Before I left, I gave a gem to your grandparents to be kept near you at all times. Your brother, however, found the fire in my eyes too painful and my mere presence caused him to cry. I could not have stayed, even had I been permitted to.

"All these years I have faced my guilt and pain alone. Stealing moments with my children in their dreams though you remembered not a thing when you awoke. It was through the ring that I became linked to you, aware of many of your doings. Aware that you were growing up independent like your mother but reckless like myself. A great malice was waiting to defeat you and I tried to warn you in your dreams but as always you did not remember. I knew you would deal with the threat but you would also bear much hurt.

"Therefore, I spoke into the mind of another. Someone who could heal your hurts and curb your temper for long enough to keep you safe until I could return."

He then turned to Lindil.

"For long you have wondered what caused you to stay beside Mithlhach," he told the elf, "I but whispered once in your heart, beckoning you to stay with the ring, and it was enough for you to do so. Yet once she lost the ring there was nothing holding you to stay but your own regard for her. I cannot thank you enough."

"I could do no less," said Lindil, "You call her Mithlhach, but what is her true name?"

"Mithlhach, _is _her true name. The one I gave her. The one I whispered to your mind when you saw her. Yet I believe the people here call her something else. 'Tis not important. She is and always will be my Mithlhach. I learned of the first attempt on her life when I beheld two fiery arrows shooting into the sky and so I pleaded with the Valar to let me return. They saw that I had suffered enough and that is why you see me here now.

"Lindil, I said earlier that I could not thank you enough. But perhaps it would please you to know that I have explained all to Nimril and she holds not a thing against you. In fact she eagerly awaits you on the ship."

Lindil's fair face lit up and he almost forgot to utter farewell before he sprinted towards the ship where Nimril stood waiting for him, smiling at him from the prow. He now understood that what had appeared as a star from afar was in fact his beloved Nimril.

"My dear friend," he said to Mithlhach, "Forgive my haste."

"It is forgiven," she said, "But before you go I must give you something. A token of my friendship."

From her bag she fished out a carved wooden box. She had carved it herself with little reminders of their adventures to Dol Amroth. Their meeting at the troll shaws, the dragon, the spiders, the boat, the tiring climb over the mountains and many more. On the lid was a symbol of a sword and an arrow side by side within a ring.

"Open it," she said.

Inside was a silver ball but it encased a glass ball that was visible from either side as though the glass ball was an eye and the silver, the eyelid. Light could pass through one side to the next. As it did so the inside shone like fire for within it curled a lock of her dark hair.

"May man and elf meet again one day," said Lindil with a smile.

"And soon," said Mithlhach taking his hand, "Farewell, brother."

"Farewell, child. There is but one thing left unexplained."

Mithlhach looked at him with raised brows.

"How come you to be so short of stature?" asked Lindil.

"My grandfather was from Bree," she replied, "And the folk there are not over tall as it is but my grandfather was shorter than most because his mother was a hobbit."

"Your great grandmother was a hobbit?" exclaimed the elf, "Surely you jest!"

"I surely do," she said with a smile.

Lindil laughed and squeezed her hand.

"I shall miss you," he said.

"No you shall not," said Mithlhach, "You shall forget me as soon as you reach Valinor but my gift will serve as a reminder to you of Mithlhach, the grey flame."

"I wish I had something for you to remember me by."

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend. Now make haste or Nimril will come here to scold me."

The sheer mention of her name made him anxious to leave so he did so after giving Mithlhach a brotherly hug and uttering a hurried farewell to the dwarves, the men and Lhachatar. She watched him hasten across to the boat and leap gracefully into it to embrace Nimril. Smiling, Mithlhach looked at the dwarves.

"Well, my friends. Will you stay and break fast with is?"

"No, my dear," said Sarin, "We must also be on our way. Business to take care of up North."

"Oh dear," said Merin.

"Oh hush. I have been assured it is genuine."

"Need I remind you that you were assured both times before and led us on a wild goose-chase," said Corin.

"Another hunt for treasure?" asked Mithlhach.

"As always," said Sarin, "We cannot return to Erebor empty handed."

"Ah," said Lhachatar, "The three dwarves who were searching for my Red Chamber. Now why were you so anxious to find me or it?"

"Only to bring poor Ohtarwen's mind to rest," said Merin, "And also in the hope that you could direct us to some of that worm beast's hoard."

"Then you are at the right place," smiled Lhachatar, "For most of that hoard is now in the mountains you see to the East."

The dwarves were, quite obviously, much delighted and after extracting from Lhachatar the exact whereabouts of the riches, they thanked him many times, said a cheerful farewell to Mithlhach, assuring her that they would visit her again soon, and loaded themselves into their cart to leave.

"How fitting that you should hold dear the children of Aulë," remarked Lhachatar, "When I am one who serves him."

"You serve Aulë? Many of the people here believe that you serve Sauron and Morgoth," said Mithlhach.

"Many people here," he said quietly so that only she could hear, "Are fools."

She chuckled and looked towards the ship bearing Lindil out to sea. He saw her from afar and waved, as did Nimril. She waved back and turned to Lhachatar once more.

"What happens now, father. Do you stay?"

"Not for long, I fear," Lhachatar answered, "And only if the Prince allows."

Prince Imrahil was standing near them with his sons and replied warmly that he did indeed allow. Amrothos, however, was looking in some confusion at the ship as it drifted away into the mist. He was drawn from his pondering when Lhachatar addressed him.

"Forgive me, young Amrothos," he said, "I fear I caused you many a restless night, troubling your mind in my search for Mithlhach. You were one of those who had held the gem, therefore, only from you could I acquire details of her whereabouts."

"I do not hold that against you, sir," replied Amrothos, "How could I, when it was I who took the life of your son."

"Do not judge yourself so harshly," Lhachatar replied, "You did what you felt was right. There is no malice in your heart. Now take me to him, dear child. I wish to look upon the face of my boy."

So Amrothos led Lhachatar to the tomb and Mithlhach followed. Lhachatar wished to see Himthol alone so Mithlhach and Amrothos waited in the courtyard for him. Mithlhach sat at the bench and looked at the fountain while Amrothos wandered aimlessly. He had been wearing his helm when he had stood with his father but now he removed it and held it under his arm so that his hair blew about his face. He walked stiffly for the wounds in his back still caused him pain and he had bandages around his wrists. He stopped finally near a wilting plant and his dark grey eyes rested on it sorrowfully. When Mithlhach looked up at him she suddenly remembered the dream she had of him standing at the edge of the cliff and although he shed no tears she felt a sudden unexplainable urge to comfort him.

"I do not blame you," she said.

She spoke so suddenly, breaking the silence, that it took him a few moments to comprehend what she had said.

"For what?" he asked.

She stood up and went near him but she did not look him in the face.

"For Himthol's death," she said, "You spared him pain and for that I am grateful. There was no guarantee that the king could have saved him or that he could have even reached him in time."

"That means more to me than you shall ever know."

"I know you meant no wrong. Not the way I killed Ohtar. Had he not attacked Lindil I would not have stabbed him but the fire would have burned him to death eventually. Such is my gift," she added, touching the wilting plant gently, "It leads only to destruction and death."

"I'm sure that is not true," said Amrothos.

He held her hand against the plant as he spoke and she looked up at him with a grim smile.

"But it is true," she said.

"Now you know that your father is not fell, why do you still see yourself this way? Your "gift" does good and you have helped many in your life, with and without it."

He spoke with such fervour and looked at her so reassuringly that she found herself believing him.

"You must be greatly fatigued," he said, "I hear that you have not slept all night. Perhaps you should rest a little before breakfast. There is a room beside Lothiriel's. You remember where her room is do you not?"

"Yes. Where is she?"

"She has gone to Rohan with my eldest brother, to acquire some horses. I believe she has taken a liking to King Eomer."

Mithlhach chuckled and remarked that Lothiriel always did have a partiality for golden hair. She further added that she would rest later once she had spoken to her father to her heart's content.

"As you wish," said Amrothos, "Please excuse me, however, for I feel the need for some rest myself."

"Think nothing if it. After all you have suffered these past days, you need some time to recuperate. Rest well."

Amrothos smiled, his heart much lightened, and went to the staircase leading to his bedchamber. Mithlhach was still looking after him when Lhachatar appeared.

"How strange," said Lhachatar, "That plant you hold is so much out of sunlight, I am surprised it would have grown at all let alone to such an extent."

Mithlhach look down and saw that the plant that had before appeared withered was now green and lush with new leaves beginning to unfurl. She looked at it in astonishment and then back towards Amrothos' staircase.

"Is something amiss, Mithlhach?" asked her father.

She smiled at him and looping her arm in his, led him to the castle's gardens.

"Not anymore, father," she replied.

**The End**

* * *

(**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This is the end but an epilogue may follow if you have any questions or something needs explaining still, so do let me know. **Thanks for reading! **I hope you enjoyed it.)


End file.
